


Thanks For The Memories...(Pete)

by punkrockpotato



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Pikey, Summer of Like, petekey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5808793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockpotato/pseuds/punkrockpotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the memories are too much to bear. He misses him. The boy that made him fly. </p><p>Years after Warped Tour 2005, Pete recalls his best memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Brought over from my Wattpad account. 
> 
> I'm thinking of doing a sequel, same timeline, but in Mikey's point of view, so yeah, look for that too.

You know that ache in your chest? Heart break maybe. It feels like your entire heart is going to jump out and hold on to the thing you need the most. I've felt that way for far too long.

To understand, we have to go way back, like ten years back. Before Bronx, before Ashlee, before all the lovers with no time for me. Back into the summer of 2005. The summer full of ice cream, water parks and hot kisses. My mummified teenage dreams.

He was my friend, best friend, lover, encourager, early morning company. But I can't help but ask myself the "what if"'s _what if we worked out, what if we never happened, what if I was stronger._ I'll never know.

I don't regret the summer, I regret how it turned out. Because we could've made it. We could've been happy... _if it were just any other summer._ But it wasn't. It's done. Now all I have to tell you it's what happened. From my side.

I love... loved... him. But sometimes that's not enough.

But the story is a happy story. Don't be fooled by the shitty outcome. Though the piece ended on a bad note, the song was still beautiful.

We, him and I, have been here forever. And here's the frozen proof.


	2. The (After) Life Of The Party

Warped Tour 2005

I'm just a problem that doesn't want to be solved. Like one of those dumb questions from algebra. I mean if it has no solution, why are you trying to make me find it? And isn't the solution 'no solution' making it circle around enough to make my head hurt.

"Come on, Pete" Patrick begs me, adjusting his cap on top of his head that doesn't quite cover all of his soft red hair. "It's the beginning of summer, best party there is, you should come"

He wants me to go to the kick off party. We're sitting in our bus at the first venue, it's already ten at night a and we don't play until one in the afternoon tomorrow. But there's a party, down at this local bar Warped rents out every year for us. Patrick wants me to go, to stop moping around. He cares, and I easily fall into guilt trips.

With all the trouble I caused the band a few months back, the least I can to us corporate with them. Patrick just wants me to go out so that I can socialise, be happy. Or maybe it's because suicide watch is still a semi real thing and he really wants to go to the party but can't leave me alone. Now I feel even more guilty.

"You can go, I'll be fine here" I mumble, picking at the black chipped nail polish. I painted them not to long ago the the bass tends to chip it off quickly. Someone declared me the king of emo once, drew a picture of me with a crown and everything. So now I must play the part, and I have to say, I really do enjoy this colour on me. But since I bite my nails so much, bits of dried polish get swallowed, not a pretty taste. Can tastes be pretty? I digress.

"That's what you said last time" he says quietly, unable to look me in the eye. It's true, I get it, he cares about me. But I don't want to go to a stupid party and act like everything's okay. Because that's my job, being Pete Wentz, the life of the party. Happy go lucky guy. But maybe it sucks even more to be Patrick, the official Pete wrangler. He's there for me all the time, picking me up. Fuck, without him I'd be dead. I owe him a lot. A lot more than I could ever give in my entire life time.

"I'll be fine" I say anyways, I don't look at him either, I'm biting my nails, a habit that will kick me in the ass later when I have to play with the non existent nails.

Patrick looks at Andy with desperation, his expression reading 'help me with this' like I'm a troubled teenager and they're my parents and they are way in over their heads. But maybe that'd be easier, they would force me to go 'cause they're the boss of me. They are like my parents I suppose. More like my travel parents. They look after me on the road or when recording or whatever. I mean my real parents are still cool, we talk a lot, but they can't hold my hand all around the nation, globe even.

Andy sighs. He didn't sign up for this either. He just wants to play drums in a band and be a nice dude. He doesn't want to deal with someone like me. I wonder if he regrets agreeing to be in this band. In the beginning, we called him 'Animal' like the muppet guy. Damn, Andy was so energetic and happy-go-lucky. He was so content just banging the drums. He also loved, and still loves, to party his ass off, he once told me that the alcohol in the bloodstream makes it easier to play the drums. Something about loose muscles, loose mind. I don't remember."How about you just come for at least an hour, if you really hate it, I'll come back with you"

Guilt trip. God I hate this. He will want to get wasted and me tapping on the shoulder and asking him to leave would probably piss him off. Not that he'd show it, like I said, he's a good dude. "No, it's okay, I'll go and we can stay for however long" I say reluctantly. I didn't want to be around all the people. I get this queasy feeling in my stomach whenever someone gets too close, when I don't want them to. They'll all probably talk about me too. I mean, we tried to keep it out of the news, but some jackass reporter on some unknown blog found out and now _everyone_ knows what's wrong in my head. Anyone who knows normally walk on eggshells around me, like one wrong word and I'll slit my throat right then and there. I won't. I'm trying, trying to get better. Trying to get to the point of pure happiness. Sure, I slip, get depressed sometimes, but that's totally normal, it just sucks when it happens.

I quickly get up, they're ready to go but I still need to grab some things. My bunk is a bottom bunk, making it easy to bend down and grab my phone. Then I stop for a quick look in the bathroom. I'm sporting plain black tee shirt and ripped jeans. I fluff up my straight black hair then smooth it down, the fringe barely missing my glassy eyes. Stepping back out, I slip on dirty black Converse and announce that I'm ready to go hate people. Well, for Patrick's sake, I just say I'm ready to go. He gets upset when I say things that may lead to suicidal thoughts. He's a bit paranoid, but not like, over-the-top paranoid like I get when I have to fly. I'm not sure why, but all of a sudden, I was just freaking out, sitting on the plane, thinking it was going to crash. Statistics show that airplane crashes are like one in a million, but I could be that one.

I think Patrick blames himself. For not getting me help after the first attempt, for not being there when I needed him, for not seeing how not okay I was. I don't blame him, it wasn't his fault, it was mine, but he doesn't get it. Now, I feel bad that I made him believe that. I told him it wasn't his fault, that it's all me. He said he knew that, he promised that he didn't blame himself, but I don't believe it. You can see it in the way he looks at me, like he failed or something. It hurts, knowing that, because I know it's not his fault but he can't believe that, and I don't know how to make him believe.

It's a short walk to the bar but I wish I brought a jacket. It's chilly for a summer's day in June, it feels like it should be September. Maybe it's my mental demeanor, my cold thoughts making me physically feel cold. I don't think it works that way. but I'm going with it.

Once inside, I feel warm again. Well, a little over warm, considering all the people. I start to feel a sickening tightening of my chest, too many people, I don't want to talk to anyone. My therapist would tell me that it's my anxiety, and that it's normal and that I should just talk to one person at a time, not rush into big groups of people. But I'm Pete Wentz, that just isn't my lifestyle.

I haven't even gotten my drink yet and people on both sides of me are including me in a conversation about the upcoming summer. The man on my left is a medium-sized muscular guy who probably spends his time lifting cars and drinking protein shakes. He tell me that he's a stage manager, making sure everything is in place and he 'moves shit too'. The man on my left has an unkempt beard that will get very hot and uncomfortable over the next few weeks. He is muscular like the other man, but not as extreme I suppose. He tells me that he's only a techie now, but he wants to do big name technical stuff. I ask if he means stage lighting and sound. With a disgusted look caused by my ignorance, he launches into a big story of how it's more than that, that he wants to make the sounds sound better in a giant room or outside. He says he wants to learn how to make cool lighting and maybe even do some pyro-displays on stage.

I nod along and when the bartender gets me a third vodka lemonade I take the glass and excuse myself from the two men who have moved on to talking about the mechanics of moving amps.

Between there and the corner, I finished the vodka and got my hands on a beer. I lean against the wall, sipping out of the brown bottle neck, people watching. It's fun to do because I get people, a lot of people are like me. Which is saddening, since I'm so fucked, but it's also oddly comforting, knowing that I'm not the only one who feels this way. The guys don't get it, they've never had severe anxiety, or depression, or paranoia. They try to understand, but you never really know what it's like until you experience it, and I'd never wish that on my worst enemy.

There's a girl in a too tight dress, grinding against a burly man with a lumberjack beard. She is insecure so goes for the easy hook ups, I conclude. Sometimes, I like to make up stories about people I see, it's probably all fictional, but it keeps me entertained. This girl, I imagine, was a nerd, like glasses and braces in high school. So, she had to sleep with people to get to the top of the high school food chain. After high school she got laser eye surgery and her braces off, but old habits die hard.

There's a small, skinny man loudly laughing to whatever his buddy just said. He's afraid of being ignored. He probably has lots of siblings, and he's like, a middle child or something. His parents never really paid attention to him. So he tried rebelling activities, since 'A+'s' didn't get his parents attention. But they still never noticed. When I was a teen, I would've loved that, but looking back, my parents actually did a pretty good job. Even though I have a brother and sister, they still found time to tell me they loved me. My dad would read to me every night until I was too old, then a while after that he taught me how to drive, and how to date girls. Pretty awesome.

There's a couple of roadies, girls, who are trying to look tougher than they are. It's hard being a girl in this type of work. Men are pigs, men in bands are entitled pigs. In this gig, it's considered a man's work. Heavy lifting, lots of moving around stuff. Since the guys make up the majority of the Warped Tour population, seeing a girl is sometimes enough to get a dude going. Sometimes they'll harass the girls, or attempt to persuade them to show their tits. I know I should step in, say something. But it's a lot safer not to get in some of these guys' way. Like, I'm pretty sure they would attempt to murder me by loosening a stage light or something, this is why I move so much on stage. No way I'm going out by a light, too ironic, or iconic.

Then, I spot this guy, pressed against the wall, clearly uncomfortable, with lots of people chattering at him at once. I've actually seen him around the party earlier. He seemed to be chatting people up, making stellar conversation, really working the room. He's tall and skinny, but bent inward, protecting himself. His soft golden brown hair covers his face, his beanie covering himself even more. To add to that, he's in a long black coat, (how, I don't know, because it's like ninety degrees in here) and long jeans. I'm surprised they make jeans that long, to be honest, he has long legs. He hides his behind his glasses and the glass of his liquor he brings to his lips every so often. He keeps an extremely good poker face, but I can tell that he's now uncomfortable by the people around him.

Come to think of it, I recognise this guy, he's Mikey Way from My Chemical Romance. They've seen my shows a few times. I've said hi, but never really talked to him, he's pretty quiet, unlike his brother who could talk your ear off about anything and everything. I distinctly remember Gerard rattling on about a play list serial killers may or may not listen to, every song on it, then why the song is on the list of murderers murdering. I'd actually really like to hear it sometime, but at the same time, I don't. Like, what if it makes me become a axe murderer or something? I'm not taking any chances

Feeling compelled, I walk towards him. As I get closer, I can hear what the people are saying.

They're talking to Mikey about his new album out, 'Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge'.

"So are you guys planning to work on a new album?" a flirty blonde asks, with lust pouring out of her eyes. I can see Mikey can tell, but he's trying to ignore it and act like he doesn't realise her intentions. I don't think I'd have the strength to do the same. If a chick looked at me like that for longer than a few moments, we'd be outside, against the wall in no time.

"It's going to be hard to top your last one though" a muscular man laughs in low tone.

"yeah...I...uh..." Mikey stumbles quietly but the questions keep coming at him.

"Man, revenge is going to have a great stage show, even for warped" a man with short wavy hair concludes. I heard Mikey, I have to assume they did too, or they're just being super big douche bags. Regardless, it felt kind of sickening to watch. Mikey seems like a good guy, and when I saw him before he was a total socialite, but these guys here are like vultures.

Mikey can barely get a word in edge wise so I take a liberty to step in. "Hey guys" I'm just now realising I'm drunker than I thought just by the slight slur of my words. "Is it okay if I steal Mikey away from you guys for a little bit?" I ask with a nod and wave as they leave. I feel like a saviour, not like Jesus or Superman, but like the guy who gets people out of awkward situations.

"Who does he think he is?" the blonde grumbles, clearly unhappy that I ruined her chances of sleeping with a celebrity of sorts.

"Thanks," he says warmly. "It's Pete right?"

"Yeppers" I smile as I grab two glasses of alcohol from the server handing one to him, then keeping one for myself. "the one and only"

Mikey laughs lightly, but the laugh is still heart warming. "Some people are insane, always trying to use me for something or another" I remember his frozen poker face. Which he's still wearing even to this day. You can't really tell his emotions through his face, and his voice is alway very calm. I want to think he's upset over the whole idea of people using him, I would be, but he doesn't seem to care one way or the other

"The struggles of Mikey Way" I state and he giggles again. It's a beautiful sound, accompanied by a small but wonderful smile, and I love being the one who made it happen, I want to make it happen more. From what I remember, and know, he doesn't smile much. It's probably because he's drunk right now, rosy cheeks and all, because I am nowhere near a decent comedian.

We make small chat, that turns random the more drunk we get.

"No no no no," I attempt to clarify incoherently "see, Captain Kirk should've killed Yoda because he's a prick"

"I think you're mixing your movies up" Mikey notes, and I honestly don't know anymore. He's drunk too, but he's still doing a bang up job. He's slurring, but not enough to not understand him, he's in a balanced upright position, and he seems mentally competent enough to be able to decide if someone was dead and needed a doctor or was just passed out drunk. But me, I was kind of using Mikey's forearm and the wall to my left for balance, and I could probably think that a man passed out from alcohol poisoning is simply passed out drunk.

A song comes on and I feel my heart tug towards it. I don't remember the name of the song at the moment but I know I like it and I know it's by Danzig. It's got a peppy upbeat but the rocking rhythm is energising and the bass line is even better, making our heart beat faster and faster.

"C'mon Mikeyway!" I nearly scream as I pull him along behind me by the hand. He's a little unbalanced at first but quickly stumbles along. See? He can totally call nine-one-one if I was foaming at the mouth. Which, sounds like rabies, so maybe a doctor is good at that point.

"Where are we going?" he asks over the music that gets louder at we move towards it. He doesn't look like he doesn't want to go to the mystery destination, but I'm certainly not going to let him get away by the fear of dancing.

"We're taking life by it's lush, sour lips and we're gonna dance!"

By now I've pushed our way through to the middle of the dance floor and Mikey and I were pushed together, dancing with the little space we had. He has his hands squeezing my biceps for balance and I place mine on his hip bones. Which, were really distracting by the way, the way they shook to the beat was nearly mesmerising. His hips moved along with the beat, shake, shake, shaking, in his overly drunken state. His eyes are looking up at me, and in his frozen poker face, I saw happiness. Like he is finally letting go and having fun. Or maybe I'm projecting how I feel onto him, because I'm feeling awesome right now. I try to get into rhythm with him but I'm far too wasted and our hips keep bumping together. There's enough contact to make it feel like we're teenagers dirty dancing at homecoming.

My stomach twists, because I'm so ecstatic, and, right now, it's Mikey Way making that possible. I didn't even think (not that I could've through the alcohol clouding my mind) before I was pressing my lips up against his. It was only for a moment, but it made me feel alive again. It was probably very disjointed, not even a real kiss, just part way on his lips. But it still felt tingly again. Tingly like teenage first kiss, tingly. I'm mummifying these teenage dreams, keeping them forever. Keeping them for when I feel like shit and I'm looking for a reason to take another breath. Sometimes I need to remind myself that happiness is possible for me, and this memory I'll keep for centuries.

He's looking up at me with his famous, unreadable expression. I want to kiss it off his face, make it melt away so I can see what he's thinking. So I can see if he thought I was a good kisser, if he wanted to do it again, and the worst one, if he hates me now, and never wants to see me again. To defend myself, it wasn't a real kiss. It was a friend kiss. Appreciation. Nothing gay about it.

"You're my best friend" I say quickly, because that's the only thing that seemed okay to say. If he liked it, I couldn't say I'm sorry. If he liked it I can't call it a joke. If he hated it, I can't make it not seem like a joke. I didn't want to hurt his feelings but I also didn't want to build an awkward cloud around the one thing that seems to make me happy.

"You kiss all your best friends like that?" he sounds skeptical. Because well, no. I don't kiss friends at all, unless I'd like them to be more than friends. But that's not the case here, it's Mikey, Mikey's got a dick and I certainly don't like him like that. I'm just drunkenly happy and he's here.

"Yep" I joke. He laughs and shakes his head. The beautiful sound arises once again.

\-------------

I wake the next morning with an angry headache and a vague recollection of last night. I should feel uneasy about the whole Mikey ordeal, but I really just want to see him again. I want him to make me feel alive every second of the day. If he lets me, I'm going to spend every second with him. It's a severe problem that I have, always jumping in feet first, not bothering to check if the water is ice cold or scalding hot. I know I shouldn't all of a sudden attempt to spend time with Mikey, but I am chasing the feeling that pulls at my body and makes it tingle, but in a good way.

I don't bother to try to think about how I got back here. Maybe I walked, maybe the guys carried me. Either way, I didn't make it to my bunk, therefore passing out on the couch. Which, by the way, is uncomfortable and will smell like death and decay in just a few days. Warped Tour takes a lot out of everyone, even bus couches.

I sit up, rubbing out the kink in my neck, but then immediately go to groaning, because, okay ow, hangover headache. I drag my useless body over to one of the drawers to the left of the sink where I pour some Tylenol into my hand and swallow them down with a glass of water I found on the sink. It wasn't mine, but it tasted like water and not like piss or something so I don't think about it too much.

The clock on the microwave reads eleven twenty. The set chart on counter says that I don't play until five, and my old pals from My Chemical Romance don't play until six. It's right about now that I believe it's a great idea to see what the tall lanky kid is up to, totally pushing my hangover to the side.

Since they play on the same stage as us, meaning their popularity is at relatively the same level, their bus is near ours. We're pretty close to the front, but not quite. We're well known, but we still have lots of growing to do. Mikey's bus is only two down from mine, and I begin to wonder if I should've put on clean pants and a new shirt. Then again, it's Warped Tour and everyone has seen seen far worse than chip-stained pants and a two day old tee shirt. Outside the bus, the guy with the massively curly brown hair- Ray I think his name is- is leaning against the black metal of the bus' outer core, chatting on his cellphone. I don't hear what he's saying but he's probably talking to his girlfriend, anyone dating tend to spend all their free time on the phone with their girl, because you never know just when you will have time again, and if it will actually be enough time to listen to her complain about how her now ex-best friend wore the exact same outfit as her to the party and how embarrassed she was. Because then you have to go into great deal of how you know for a fact that she looks so hot in that outfit, that no one can even compare to her.

He pauses his phone conversation to look at me, questioning why I'm here.

"Is Mikey around?" I ask, proving that I do in fact have a reason to interrupt his girlfriend telling him about the new sushi place he just _has_ to try when he gets back.

"Tread lightly, he's grumpy and hungover" Ray advises as he punches in his bus code to open the door and then goes back to his phone conversation.

I don't hesitate climbing the steps, after shutting the door behind me, and letting the bus reveal itself to me. It's pretty identical to mine, except messier. There was a couch to my left, miscellaneous items scattered across it, and to my right was a T.V. with a pile of movies next to the side. Behind that, was the closed off bunk area and a table with two benches at each long side, all attached to the wall of the bus. Sitting in the bench facing me, was Mikey. Well, he was more hunched over, head on the table, groaning at the headache he received as a consequence to drinking.

He tilts his head to the side to see who just sat across from him, and when he sees me, he shields himself from the light again. "I blame you" He says, hints of joking, but it also was my fault considering I did keep shoving drinks in his hand.

"Had a rough night?" I smirk, even though he can't see it. I thought about bringing up the kiss again, but it's an awkward subject, really not one to talk about. Plus, I'm pretty sure I don't even want to do it again, so there's no use in dredging up the past.

"Yeah, some douche got me drunk off my ass" He jokes, and it makes me feel light. People are so careful around me, and it's nice to have someone joking around with me like I'm a real person, not some cracked glass, doomed to break if you move it too much.

I laugh. He still hasn't lifted his head, even when Ray comes back in and rumbles back to his bunk, so I'm unable to let me see his warming smile and melting eyes."Can't baby boy lift his headache head?" I coo, refraining myself from laughing. But when he looks up and narrows his eyes at me, I can't help but burst out laughing.

He winces. "No really though, I shouldn't have got so drunk, Gerard's just coming clean and parading around like a drunk buffoon, showing off what he can't have is a dick move. So I'm trying to get rid of this hangover before he awakens. I don't think it'll be for a while though, he was up last night drawing comics until at least three in the morning."

I feel bad for getting him drunk now. But I know what can make it better. "Wanna go out for coffee?" I ask, because my headache is still prominent and not going away anytime soon. Plus, getting to know Mikey more seems like a fantastic idea. If I'm going to plan on spending my summer with him, I might as well get to know him. Plus, I'd love to listen to him talk for hours about how much he hates sequels or something insignificant like that.

"I never turn down coffee" He says after a moment. I could take that moment before acceptance as hesitation, but his reaction time is slowed down by the pounding headache, at least that's how I normally am. I quickly push myself out of the dining table bench and stick out my hand to help him up, wearing a goofy grin. He accepts and I help him out of the table, then he leads me out of the bus, stopping only to grab his side kick off the ledge. I'm surprised he could even find it, though it's a small ledge, it is covered in various art supplies, food and one of Gerard's eyeliner pencils.

Once we step outside the bus, he's digging in his pocket, putting a white stick between those soft lips I remember from last night, then using his yellow coloured lighter to set the cigarette on fire. He takes a deep drag, like he's breathing for the first time in years, then blows the light grey smoke out from between his lips as he holds the cigarette out in offering.

I shake my head. "Those things'll kill ya, you know" I have to turn my neck a little more than usual to look up at him, his hair straightened, but still frizzy, contrasting against the vibrant, cloudless, blue sky.

He cracks a smile, or maybe it's just him putting it back into his mouth for another drag. I'm going to go with smile because it makes me feel more special, since Mikey never really smiles for anyone, not even in pictures. "Not before my brother does, some nights he'll keep me up all night, discussing the importance of pens in our economy or how he had a dream that he killed me and he needs to apologise."

Once off the venues grounds, on our way to the coffee shop just around the corner, I breathe in a little of second hand smoke, a zingy, sharp smell with a bitter flavour, before speaking again. "Sounds like something I'd do"

"Remind me never to let you around me when I plan on sleeping" he says flatly, but it was light hearted. His lips part again, letting more of the grey chemical mixture slip by. Whenever Mikey talks I get this giddy feeling at the bottom of my stomach, I have no clue just what he's doing to me, then again, it's probably the chemicals messing with my head.

"That totally ruins all of my plans" I joke. He looks at me a little sideways and I realise that could easily mean that I 'planned' on _sleeping_ with him then sleeping with him after. "No, I totally meant I was going to wake you up and talk about the universe or physics or how I'm pretty sure a cat could maul me like a snake" I realise snakes don't 'maul' people, more like unhinge their jaw and swallow people whole, but it's not important.

"Whatever you say, _mon chérie_ " He says the last bit so smoothly, rolling off the tongue like the wheels of a getaway train. But, it didn't sound sophisticated so it's probably a foreign saying. The way he said it made him sound like he was a french dude with a burette on his head, striped black and white sweater, holding a croissant in one hand, and the Mona Lisa in the other, whilst standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. Stereotypical French guy.

"What does that mean?" I inquire, because do I really look like the kind of guy to know words from other languages (besides holá, which means hello in spanish for all my non-bilingual friends out there). Actually, I don't think knowing one word in a different language makes you bilingual, but if I ever need a real job, that's not Fall Out Boy for some reason, I'd like to think that it counts enough to put on my resumé.

He shrugs, not actually telling me the answer. "Unfair!" I whine like I'm a kid without a Cool Happy Meals toy. "You can't say fancy stuff in foreign languages and not tell me what it means! It's against the rules!"

He shrugs again. "I don't think there's actually rules pertaining to foreign languages"

"Live and let live" I shrug, hoping that it'll convince him.

"Live and let live? That aphorism talks about opinions, not fact. And it is a _fact_ that there is no rule saying I have to define foreign words to you" I pout, not really knowing where I was going with the quote anyways.

As we enter the little café shoppe, I'm welcomed by the warm scent of coffee beans, cinnamon and a little bit of fruity goodness. The atmosphere of the coffee shop was very modern- mainstreamish, but there seemed to be a lot of people there who attempted to go against mainstream. They sat there drinking their iced lattes, reading the newspaper and pretending no one else matters, or exists for that matter. Which is fine with me. I'm getting closer to the stage in my career where I get recognised easily, and when I say easily I mean like ' _who is that guy? I know I know him from somewhere. Oh! Is that the hyper dude on stage with the rockin' band?_ '

Mikey orders a simple coffee with creme and sugar, where as I enjoy to make the random combinations of flavours in my coffee. This time, I choose coffee with chocolate syrup _and_ hot cocoa, for good measure I also asked them to put a bit of peppermint syrup in with it. I realise that's a total Christmas drink but I'm in the mood, and all year round can be Christmas if you try hard enough. Although, I'm from Chicago so snow usually comes along with Christmas. I'll just have to use my imagination.

Our drink are served in large,white ceramic mugs with a white ceramic plate underneath it, and we carefully carry it past to the little lounging area to a secluded two person table in the corner. If it were wintertime, the lounge would've had the fireplace filled with burning wood, but it's the beginning of summer and I want to guess that having a fire on in ninety degree weather isn't the smartest or most comfortable idea.

Sitting down, we start with small talk (How's your band doing? Good. New music? Can't say yet). I gradually relax into my seat as I tell him about how I want to go crowd surfing and listen to great partying music this summer. I tell him jokes and his lip twitch up, making me feel proud of myself. Mikey tells me that he's pretty closed off, tends to stick to his band, especially Gerard, the most. I'd like to imagine him being a rambunctious little kid, hitting Gerard with cardboard tubes pretending they're lightsabers. He says that never happened. He tells me that he wanted to be a pirate when he was five. When he was seven he discovered unicorns and wanted every single unicorn thing that he came in contact with (he still does to this day). "Once, Gerard threw out my unicorn stuff and I tried to stick a fork in the toaster 'to be with the unicorns'" He recalls.

"Oh my god Mikeyway" I laugh hard enough to make my sides start to ache.

"That not even the worst thing I've done" he claims. "I have to share a flat with Frank, because I'd accidentally kill myself within the first few minutes of being there. Like once, I was cold but needed to take a shower, so I was like 'why don't I just bring my heater in the shower with me?'. Then Frank and Gerard had to sit me down and explain to me just _why_ that was a horrible idea"

"Mikeyway," I finally am able to say, after regaining my breath from laughing so hard. I probably disturbed some of the other coffee goers, but right now, I really don't care, because I'm being happy with Mikey and there's no time to worry about things like that. "You're a hazard to yourself"


	3. The Carpal Tunnel Of Love

Days went by quickly with Mikey. We spend almost every minute together, when not on stage or at soundcheck, but even then, we sit and watch each other play. It's nice having someone watching over me when I play, someone to hope I make it off stage in one piece. Somedays, I'll write down so many lyrics that pour out of me when I'm with him, that my hand hurts and Patrick swears I'll get Carpal Tunnel. I know we just came out with an album, but with the amount of lyrics I have scattered into my notebook, we could probably have another album up and running in no time. The guys say they need a break, but I've been ready to go lately, I'm excited to get back into the studio and put these words to life. Immortalise my summertime memories. 

I look up from my position where my head's laying on Mikey's lap, to watch his eyes crinkle at the edges behind his glasses. We're sitting in his bus, air conditioning cranked up high because bearing the heat of the outside seems too strenuous right now. It's only been a few days since Warped started but I'm already sick of the heat, and this isn't even the worst of it. Sometimes it gets up into the hundreds, if we're really lucky. I've only been in this bus one other time, and it was when I went out to get coffee with him. Come to think of it, he's never been on my bus. We haven't really hung out on each other's busses, despite the heat. Maybe because there is always someone on the bus, and I don't want to be bothered. Or maybe it's because I really enjoyed laying in the itchy, green grass, in the shade of a bushy tree, just enjoying Mikey's company as the day rolls on.

We're just hanging out, splitting earbuds and a bottle of pop, listening to whatever song I decide Mikey must hear _right now_ , when the door to the bus opens. I don't bother to move, though I knows I should, but it's not like we're dating or anything, we're just two dudes escaping the heat together. I see a black mop of long black hair, that I know as Gerard, bounce up the steps with a notepad in hand, and bringing an unwanted gust of heat with him. I've met Gerard once, after one of my shows, as aforementioned, he will talk to you about anything and everything, but I doubt he remembers me.

"Hey Mikes!" Gerard says cheerfully, flipping through his notepad, not actually looking at us "You gotta check out this new drawing I made. It's only a sketch but these vampire like things would make cool comic characters..."

He finally looks up and his eyes bounce between me and his younger brother as his smile drops and the excitement is sucked out of him. I know this will not be good, mostly because he's looking at me like I stole all of his coffee and plan to murder his brother next. From what Mikey says, there's only a few things Gerard loves; coffee, Mikey and comics, in that order. But I haven't stolen any coffee, except that one cup that Mikey brought me yesterday morning, but that's not stealing if it's offered to me. I certainly don't plan on killing Mikey either, like ever. He's the sweetest little dude in the world, summer wouldn't be summer without him. 

Mikey clears his throat. "Gerard, this is-"

"Pete Wentz" Gerard cuts him off, narrowing his eyes at me, "I know. Hey, Pete? Can you excuse my brother and me for a moment? I'm kind of sensitive about my drawings" it's not about the drawings, it's about me. Gerard had shown me this cool drawing of a girl and a guy at the concert. Actually, it's the new album cover, but when I saw it, it was a very rough draught. I can only imagine just what kind of information Gerard has to spill to Mikey about me

"Yeah" I smile in agreement and watch as he pulls Mikey up by his hand and tugs him into the bunk area, closing the thick curtain between them. Not thick enough though, since I can hear every word they say. 

"What are you-" Mikey gets cut off by Gerard again. I imagine Mikey with his immense poker face, but I bet Gerard could see the confusion and frustration that's barely reaches his skin. I hope to get to know Mikey like that, know him well enough to be able to tell what he's thinking, even if he isn't showing it.

"Pete Wentz?" Gerard hisses, at a low whisper, but again, thin walls. I have a sinking feeling. Like Gerard is going to tear me apart and Mikey will hate me. Or Gerard will force Mikey to stop being friends me.

"The man on our couch? Yeah, that's his name. I thought we went over this already." Mikey's voice drops down to a whisper halfway through, I'm guessing Gerard shushed him to keep the non-secret conversation a secret. 

"What are you doing with him?" Gerard demands

"Fucking his brains out, right there, on the couch, for all to see. Couldn't you tell?" Mikey says sarcastically, to which I bet Gerard gives an incredibly angry look because after a second Mikey says "Okay, okay. We were hanging out, listening to music. Why?"

"Because... that's _Pete Wentz_ " Gerard says like it should mean something to Mikey. I have a sickening feeling that whatever is running through Gerard's mind right now is not good, not good at all. I've done a lot of dumb shit, and I certainly see why Gerard is being protective. I don't have the best track record with people. I don't mean to, but I'm kinda like a tornado, whirling around in people's lives for awhile and disappearing, leaving them crumbled. I don't want it to be like that with Mikey. "He's bad news, Mikey"

"He's a good guy." Mikey defends. I'm biting at my fingernails, keeping up with the nasty habit, and seriously considering getting up and hiding from Mikey for the rest of the Tour. "Tabloids make you out to be a real ass, and it not true....well, most of the time"

"Pete doesn't think before he does things. You will just be another one of his silly memories. People like Pete just want to get to the top and he will crush you to do it." I stand up to leave but then I picture Mikey's face when he has seen I'm gone. Plus, having fights with band members before a set is bad enough, but a brotherly fight before set may be deadly, I would just make Mikey more pissed at Gerard for scaring me off. Or maybe Mikey will take time to think about Gerard's words, since I left, and realise I am not the friend he wants. But if I stay, I'm going to piss Gerard off even more, and from how much Mikey seems to adore him, that doesn't seem like a good idea. Nothing seems like a good idea right now.

"You wanted me to make new friends!" Mikey's whisper is cracking because he wants to scream at Gerard. "You were happy when I came back yesterday all smiley." I sit back down, because I can't leave, Mikey will be upset. He'll either need someone or need to be alone, therefore making the decision for me. I don't know which one I'd like more. Probably him needing me. I want to make him feel the way I do when I talk him. He deserves the very best.

"With anyone but Pete! I know you, I know how you get-"

"Fuck you, Gerard" Mikey finally yells to cut Gerard off as he pulls back the curtain. I jump a little at the surprise, because the conversation didn't sound over just yet, but apparently it is. Because he's pulling me off the couch and off the bus. "C'mon Pete, we're going" It's dark out, and we hear the rest of My Chem. coming back so Mikey steers us in the other direction. His face is vacant of all emotions, as we walk further from the bus. I almost have to jog to keep up with the speed his long legs are going.

Slowing down, we sit with our backs up against the chain link fence. "I'm sorry" He apologises. His fingers are running through his tangled hair, stopping and pulling at the knots. His face is abandoned from all emotions, but the tug of his hand and the distant stare tells me he's one of the emotions on the angry side. I know he's not angry at me, but I still feel myself going inward, feeling like it's my fault. I guess it is. Gerard clearly hates me, Mikey's stuck in the middle. If I weren't such a fool all the time maybe I could actually be friends with someone without them getting hurt. 

"Why?" I ask, picking at the thin amount of grass poking up underneath us. It reminds me of playing football in primary school. I got board, so I'd sit and pick at the grass. Coach yelled at me so much for it, calling me ' _Peter_ ' and finding nice ways to tell me to get my ass back on the field, because I was only eight. To be fair, I didn't want to do it in the first place, mum signed me up with hopes of me meeting new friends. Because, at the time, I hung out with older kids, and mum worried that they'd start doing drugs and get me addicted at the ripe age of ten or something. 

He shrugs. "Gerard I guess."

"He doesn't like me much does he?" I assume because, yeah, after what he said about me, it doesn't seem like he's ready for me to be his best friend anytime soon. But Mikey doesn't know I heard the conversation so I probably should shut my mouth before I piss him off too.

"You can tell?" He breathes in the nighttime air, smoother on the lungs than daytime air.

"Nah" I say with a little chuckle. "I thought he gave death stares to all his new friends"

Mikey laughs a little and leans into me, putting his head on my shoulder. I can feel the heat radiating off him and his fly aways tickling the bare skin of my neck. He smells nice for Warped, a lot of guys give up after the first day without a shower, but he smells like some kind of cologne sampler I tried once, a C.K. brand maybe, there's also hints of coffee and cigarette smoke, it fits him. It's a smooth smell, doesn't slap the senses with a bitter sweet smell. I take a deep breath, inhaling all the good thoughts that come along with Mikey. It's quiet, save for the faint sounds of music and yelling coming from different busses. The darkness surrounds them, forgetting the lampposts scattered around the parking lot in some orderly fashion.

The perfectness is shattered by the piercing noise of my cellphone ringing, I jump at the sound but Mikey doesn't even flinch. I wish I had turnt it off completely but it was Patrick calling, probably worried of my well being, and I can't miss his calls without him thinking I jumped off a bridge, never to be seen again. "What?" I answer a little grumpily because he's ruining my peace and made Mikey shift off my shoulder.

"Where are you? Bus call is in five" Patrick says, clearly too used to my rude telephone greetings.

"Shit" I mumble. Mikey looks at me with confusion and I mouth 'bus call'. "I'll be right there"

Mikey is frowning by the time I end the call with Patrick and look back to him. I don't even have to say anything, he just comes out and says it "I don't wanna go back" his eyes are fixated on the ground, like if he stares at it, it will stop time, keep him here. I think I'd like that, staying here with Mikey, just being okay. With Mikey, I don't have to pretend. He gets me too. Some days I just don't want to talk, and he'll create the entire conversation, or if I want silence he knows to just sit in silence with me, he also knows when to let me run my course, talk until I can't talk anymore, he'll never interrupt.   
"Can I come back with you? I can sleep on the couch, if the rest of your band doesn't mind, and promises not to draw dicks on my face whilst I sleep."

I chuckle and stand up, pulling him along, that is totally something they'd do. Well, not Patrick but probably Joe. If it weren't Mikey, I'd be the one to initiate the dick drawing. "Yeah. Of course. Anything for my sweet little dude"

"I'm taller than you" He points out as we start to walk back to the bus, but at my pace this time.

"Well, I'm a little guy. But it doesn't matter, it's a cool name" I stare up at the black sky a little, wherever we are now reminds me of Chicago, the city lights are too bright to see the stars. But maybe next place we go will be closer to the countryside and I'll take Mikey out stargazing.

"That's a long nickname" I see Mikey squinting at the sky too, like he's trying to make stars out of nothing. I think I'll make him lay on the the top of my bus with me, then I'll point out constellations. I don't actually know any constellation names but I'm sure the ones I make up are way cooler than the actual ones.

"It's not a nickname. It's just a name. The name. The name of our gang." I trail off down the river of thought.

"Gang?" Mikey repeats

"Yeah" I throw a cheesy smile in his direction and prepare to make up an awesome story about the newly formed gang. "It's a secret gang, with just you and me. We are the Sweet Little Dudes. We'll have tee shirts and everything"

Mikey laughs as we approach my bus. "Sweet Little Dudes" he muses, mostly to himself "I like it" I feel all warm inside as I punch in my bus code and lead him in.

"My rolling hotel" I introduce my bus with stretched out arms. All the guys are in the front, Andy nibbling on carrots and examining a piece of paper probably about our band, Joe is getting a beer from the fridge and Patrick is typing away at his little computer. I see Mikey note that the guys don't really pay attention to my madness anymore. I flop down on the couch next to Patrick, pulling Mikey along with me. There isn't a lot of room so he's kind of squished against me, kind of on top of me. Patrick looks up, and looks surprised to see the tall guest looking back at him with bored eyes.

"Pete?" Patrick's tone catches the attention of the rest of the band, who are now are all looking at Mikey. It's a tone that I know too well. I've heard it from mum at six years old when I plopped down my famous mud pie down on the newly-cleaned kitchen table, where we had to eat within five minutes. I heard it from my ex girlfriend, when we were dating, I had suggested that we pretend to be bats and hang upside down and have sex (she said they only sleep like that, but technically that's their bed so sex there is a possiblility). Now, I'm hearing it from Patrick, who has said it too many times to count. 

"Mikey Way!" I point excitedly at the boy sitting next to me. "We're having a sleepover, he's spending the night." I'm nearly bouncing out of my skin at the words. A whole night with Mikey? Awesomeness must insue. Besides, if he weren't here I'd probably be bored and trying to get Andy to eat the carrots I stuck up my nose. 

"If that's okay" Mikey pipes in, everyone's taken off edge and are back to what they were doing, all except Patrick who looked like he was going to kick Mikey to the curb. I beg he doesn't do that, Mikey was really pissed at Gerard, he needs time to cool off. I'm trying to be here for him but Patrick's going to throw a wrench in his kindness skills. Which, by the way, do not come up often, he should be proud of me for taking a step towards normal human interactions. 

"Does your brother know?" Patrick asks carefully. Not carefully like when he talks about sensitive subjects with me, but carefully like a parent. A parent whose kid brought over another kid, and he already had his handful with one kid.

"I texted Frank" He tells Patrick, who then mumbles an 'okay' before turning back to his computer.

I jump up so fast, I nearly knock Mikey off the couch. "Yay" I fist pump in the air. I'm going to get the snacks, and the soda, then we'll go to the back and watch a movie"

Mikey watches as I grab two bottles of pop and an armful of any sugary food I come in contact with, then he follows me through the bunk area (which I wish I cleaned up now, seeing that my sweaty shirts are laying on the floor for Mikey to trip over), all the way to the back lounge. I throw all the stuff on the side of the couch and kneel down to find a good movie in the stack of okay movies.

"I got Nightmare On Elm Street or Friday The 13th" I tell him. There are actually a lot more choices than that but I really just want to get to eating the Green Tea Kit-Kat bar a girl gave me today, that and I'm _really_ in the mood for a classic horror movie.

"Elm street" He chooses quickly as he falls to the couch, leaving a spot between him and the food just for me. Like I said, he just gets me.

One classic horror movie later, we ate double our weight in candy, and our eyes are droopy from overeating and not enough sleep the previous night. "How can you eat all that and still stay skinny?" I ask, with a small laugh that's cut off with a yawn.

"Because of all the coffee I drink" He returns a yawn, only furthering scientific fact that yawn are contagious. That'd be a cool way to die. Like, I could imagine someone asking Patrick how I died and he saying that I got a contagious disease. Then, they'd ask what disease, and he'd have to say yawning. "That's also why I'm so tall"

"Man, I better get on the coffee drinking then, I'm too short" But wasn't the myth that drinking coffee stops your growth? Or maybe it just effects it, some stop growing and some grow like a beanstalk.

"To catch up to me, you would never be able to stop drinking coffee for at least fifteen years. Gerard and I single handedly keep the homemade coffee business afloat with our seven cups a day, minimum."

I laugh. I alway laugh with Mikey. It's a habit, but not a bad one like biting my fingernails. It's one that has positive effects on me, and honestly, I can't think of a single negative effect. Or maybe I just don't want to because laughing with Mikey feels too good to ruin just yet. But my body is going against me at the moment and is doing everything in it's power to get me to get into my bunk for at least a little sleep before tomorrow comes. I don't know how I'm going to sleep knowing Mikey is around, sleeping is a waste of time, I want fill the seconds with him with meaningful memories.

"I'm getting kinda tired" He tells me, his eyelids fighting to stay up. "We can watch more a different day" my heart springs at the idea of future plans, I know the likeliness of us hanging out tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, is very high, but I like to know for sure.

"For sure" I smile through sleepiness. I am sort of tired. For an insomniac, sort of tired is better than nothing. We look at each other for a moment, and I realise Mikey wants me to leave so he can lay down across the tiny couch, that wouldn't even fit me, but he's not going to be rude and come right out and say it. "You should sleep in my bed" I say quickly, not really thinking, just spitting whatever words are at the tip of my tongue. I'm pretty good at that, though, it normally ends in me getting punched. 

"I'm okay here, go get some rest" He says softly, not punching me like I thought he would. But then again, Mikey would never really punch me. From first glance, he looks menacing with his deserted stare and long limbs, but he's really just a cinnamon roll, too precious for the world.

"That's no fun" I pull him along behind me over a short distance until we're outside my bunk.

"No, Pete, sleep in your own bed, I'm fine" His voice is steady, and he trying really hard to be a polite bus guest. But I never cared much for politeness. It's hard for me to do, and if people are polite to me, I have to be nice to them and _ew_.

"Yeah, I will" I smirk as I push him into the bunk then follow him, squishing him against the wall.

"This is barely made for one person, what makes you think this is a good idea?" he says, his hot breath against my shoulder. I adjust myself and Mikey makes himself comfortable against me. His knees are crossed over my lower thighs and his his forehead is pressed against my bicep.

"We're Sweet Little Dudes, we can do anything" It's true, we could probably fly. Well fly for a few seconds before we hit the ground but the second of airtime should definitely count as flying. He hums in response and I move so my hand slides under him, pushing his head to my shoulder.

"Are you cuddling me Mr.Wentz?" He laughs, then rests his awkward hand at the base of my ribcage. I can feel his fingers placed ever so slightly, still warm from the bass playing hours before. I take his glasses off and watch his eyes go cross eyed for a moment before I place them safely on the shelf above us. I don't really have room for them, but I rather those not get crushed, I don't know if Mikey has back up frames or how angry he'd be to wake up and not be able to see.

"Yeah, in the most manly way possible" I lower my voice, he laughs softly, but enough to feel the short push against my chest. I stare up to the top ceiling of the bunk it's white plastic and it's got a push button light. During tours, I'll hang up cool drawings that kids give me, but I haven't gotten around to doing much of anything. Anything besides playing on stage or slinking my days away with Mikey next to me. I think he's the kind of person that'd be up for anything, I could just be like ' _hey we should go check out that dumpster_ ' and he'd just shrug and go along with it.

"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" He says quietly, just incase I was actually sleeping and didn't want to disturb me.

"Yeah." I say softly to not break the innocent atmosphere we've created in the past ten minutes. He doesn't speak again, but I know he hasn't fallen asleep yet. " _Drink down that Gin and Kerosene, and come spit on bridges with me, just to keep us warm. Light a match to leave me be. Light a match to leave me be_." I begin to sing, ever so softly, I don't know if he'd like it, but my mum used to sing to me old songs. Granted, I'm not singing something my great-great-great grandmother sang, but Fall Out Boy is an epic band and I know their words pretty well. Probably because I wrote them... He relaxes against my skin and it gives me the confidence to continue singing whilst I stroke his hair in a soothing motion." _I keep my jealousy close, 'cause it's all mine.and if you say this makes you happy, then I'm not the only one lying_..."

\--------------------------------------

I woke up this morning, stiff and squished. I had slept in last night's clothes, and seeing as Mikey is still here, sleeping softly, tomorrow's dreams as well. I worry that it's not what it seems. Like, Mikey and I... we have something special. I feel something special for him but whether or not he has the nagging feeling too, is another story.

Mikey's lips are parted softly, as shallow breaths escape his hold. He hasn't moved from his position last night, but his hands are gripping the thin material of my shirt. Dare I say it he's actually kinda... _cute_. And cute is definitely not an adjective a man would use to describe another man. But it was true. 

He blinks a few times, waking up and his eyes  look up at me with confusion. I could tell myself it's because he doesn't realise where he is yet or why there's early morning company in the bed he thought was his, but I have a sinking feeling that it's because I am basically watching him sleep. _Stalkerish_. 

"Good morning, Princess" I pull off a half cocked smile. I'm actually surprised he's awake, normally I only get five hours or less of sleep every night. That means Mikey did too. Though, when I brought up my insomnia problems, he mentioned something about his too. It's nice to have someone on the same sleeping schedule with me, because the odd hours I'm awake can get lonely, and loneliness fills my head with thoughts and bad memories that make my stomach twist. 

He bites his lip and retracts his hand from it's grip on my shirt, putting his arm back into an awkward position against his side. "Thank you," he says softly. "for letting me stay."

"Anything for my Sweet Little Dude" I hit my elbow on the wall as I attempt to ruffle his hair. He physically cringes at the feeling of his hair now not being perfect, but doesn't make an effort to fix it. He always straightens his hair in the mornings, and he refuses to let _anyone_ touch it, so I feel pretty special right now.

"Gerard would've made me miserable." he looks down at the grey bedsheets that are wrinkled, but surprisingly not yet stained with foods or other things in my bunk that stains bedsheets. 

"Miserable, but stunning." I watch for him to laugh, smile slightly, but he doesn't. "Why doesn't he like me?"

He takes a deep breath, like he was expecting that question, but never really wanted it to arise. I always  say thinks I shouldn't, but usually I have the best intentions. Like the one time I told Joe ' _his curly locks look quite exquisite today_ ', he distanced himself from me for a while. "He's just..." He pauses searching for a word that wouldn't hurt Gerard's feeling if his brother were somehow listening to this conversation, which, couldn't happen because no one is up at six in the morning and as far as I'm concerned my bunk doesn't have any spyware in it. "Overprotective. For many reasons. He's just being a big brother I guess"

"I have a big brother, we don't talk much though, but I kinda consider Patrick to be my big brother." I smile lightly at the thought of my best friend and I being as close as the Way brothers are. "He's like that too, more often than I wish he was, but he's always right" oh my god. I basically just told him to listen to his brother and never talk to me again. Jesus Christ, I need to learn when to shut my mouth. 

"Gerard is actually really smart. He gives good life advice, but I can make decisions for myself." He flicks his eyes up to look at me. I let myself melt into them, normally eye contact makes me freeze up like a bear or something. But with Mikey, I feel my eyes soften and body loosen to his perspective. "You're a good guy, Pete, I couldn't talk to anyone who has ever made a bad mistake, then I'd just be mute. Everyone make mistakes, but it's what you do after the mistake that shows good versus bad."

I stare at him, mouth agape. Because, _wow_. That's....that's the most perfect thing I've ever heard. I alway feel shitty because of my past. Like every single fuck up adds to how terrible of a person I really am. I should remember this. For when I'm feeling like shit. Fuck, I love Mikey Way. Maybe I'll even put it in a song if Patrick lets me. 

"Or maybe I'm just being stupid" He says inwardly, ducking his head down. I see the rosy blush tinting his cheeks like the setting sun. I wish he wouldn't hide himself behind his hair, he's actually really smart, like his brother I suppose. He deserves more appreciation than he actually gets. When I first met Mikey, only a few days ago, I befriended him for selfish reasons, because he can make me feel better, but now, I can give back just as much as I take, by making him feel worth it. 

"No. No. Mikey," I nuzzle my head against his "you're amazing, that's totally what I needed to hear. Honestly Mikes, fuck."

Though I can't see with my head on his ducked down head, I know his lips twitched into a smile. Even if it were just for a moment.

After Mikey leaves for sound check, wearing my Anthrax tee, the first thing I see is Patrick's _very_ disapproving glance.

"I know 'Trick," I smile a giddy smile. Not from Patrick's glare, but from the aftermath of Mikey. God, he's so perfect. He gets me better than I get myself. I haven't been able to wipe this cheesy smile off my face since I woke up next to him this morning. "I shouldn't have just randomly let him stay over, alone time, blah, blah, blah."

"It's not that" Patrick sighs, sinking into the couch as we both sit down. "It's just that... well, you're happy"

"Is that a bad thing?" I try to be offended, but Mikey's essence is still flogging up my brain and everything's fuzzy and bright, like I lit it up with Joe or something. 

"No, well, yeah. I mean no but..." He pauses to take a breath. "I see the way you look a Mikey. You're setting yourself up to get hurt. Whatever you two have, whatever you _want_ you two to have, will only last until the end of the summer. Then we pack our bags and head home."

That's the negative thing about Mikey that I was skillfully avoiding. My smile drops and my stomach does something of the same. I really do not want to think about that, anything but that. "We're best friends" I tell Patrick, but I think I'm trying to convince myself more than him. "there's also this new technology called a cellphone, I don't know if you've heard of it, you can call anyone even if they're halfway across the country."

"Pete..." Patrick has the tone again. 

"I'm fine 'Trick. I mean, it's not like a wonder why I like hanging out with him. He's the only one who treats me like a person, not like a fragile piece of shit ready to break" I can feel my anger boiling within me. The thing is, I'm not good at controlling it. I know it's not Patrick's fault, he's just afraid of losing me. But I'm getting sick of everyone whispering about me and acting like any quick movements will scare me away. Mikey's not like that. Mikey acts like he doesn't know I even have a past. He's so in the now that it makes me feel able to go another day. 

"I just care about you..." Patrick tries to calm me down, I don't know why he tries anymore because once I'm riled up, there's no bringing me down. I just have to run my course.

"Then stop trying to question my every move!" I regret saying it as I'm saying it, but I can't stop. I realise that now I'm in a fight with the lead singer, just like Mikey is, and none of this is looking good. Especially since both me and Mikey's closest people are against the best thing that's happened to me. This is turning out to be like that one book I never read in English class, the one with the two lovers, who fell in love but their families hated each other. Though, Fall Out Boy and My Chem. don't really have anything against each other, Gerard just hates me and Patrick just is afraid for me. So maybe I won't die in the end.

Andy and Joe hang back, trying to stay out of the way of the flying objects as throw everything I can and yell whilst Patrick tries to calm me down. I feel shitty when I'm like this but I can't stop. 

I want to see Mikey.


	4. Irresistible

There's an off day this Saturday. Only a mere two days away. We're spending two nights here in Florida before heading up to Wisconsin for one day. It's only five o'clock and we've both finished our sets, seeing as we were damned with early sets for once. Maybe it's for the better, because it's hotter than hell out here. It had to be over a hundred degrees, and though there are plenty of clouds in the sky, they're all too lazy to move enough to cover the sun for some shade. I don't blame them, the clouds, I'm too hot and lazy to move either. I'm comfortable just where I am, laying on a blanket, under the shade of an oak tree, with the coolest dude laying next to me. 

 

I had stripped off my shirt hours ago, but Mikey on the other hand, claims to be okay. I swear, that boy will melt right into the blanket, he's wearing a black band tee and jeans, _skinny_ jeans nonetheless. I told him he looked hot, then quickly stumbled over my words to reform the sentence into being 'you look too warm, it's like a million degrees'. Mikey shrugged to that. I really only wanted his shirt off because I was jealous. When I peeled my shirt off he raked his eyes over my torso, soaking in the tattoos. His eyes were burning hot through my skin, but he didn't notice and I was content watching him admire my ink. Then he stared at the bat heart tattoo, my favourite, and his eyes sent electric shock waves through my stomach, which, I had hoped weren't making my stomach twitch and convulse under his gaze. His arm twitched, like he lost control for a second, like he was going to reach out and touch it, but then gained control of his arm again. I reached out for his hand, guiding it to my lower abdomen, pushing his long fingertips against my rough skin. It was a spoken agreement that I was okay with his admiration. He didn't hesitate, he instantly began to trace the ink's edges with a feathery light touch, keeping his lips slightly parted with overflowing admiration. I shivered under his touch, not like a cold shiver, because it's like a volcano's asshole out here, but like... a shiver that runs down your spine for no reason, kinda like a demons possessing me or something. He kept tracing the ink and I kept my eyes locked on his delicate digits. My stomach was flip flopping around in my stomach like it was trying out for the gymnastics team. I let out a shaky breath when he brushed over the thin trail of hair leading into my jeans. It was like he was hypnotised just by tracing the colours, and I was hypnotised watching him. I had to stop him when I felt my jeans tighten in places that were not okay. When he heard my voice he jumped back a little, like he had just hurt me, but when he saw how distraught I was, he said "I like your ink" and laid back down beside me. 

That's where we are now. Laying, looking at the lazy clouds that are even too lazy to form a cool shape like a bunny or a dragon or a unicorn for Mikey. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him open his eyes behind his glasses, putting his eyes to the sun. "The sun is only blinding to keep back what the clouds are hiding." He says lightly, kind of like my English professor back when I was in the university. 

"I don't get it" I tell him, turning my head to watch him stare into the endless blue sky. What are the clouds hiding? Birds? Jesus? The president's email password? Even then, the sun isn't _always_ blinding, sometimes it sets and when it's against the horizon, the whole sky is like lilacs, beautiful. But then, it's not blinding nor hiding secrets to an evil circus ring with bears on beach balls and clowns shooting out of cannons. 

"The clouds can only cover up so much, so the sun has to take over to make sure no one can see what the clouds don't want anyone to see." he turns his head to look at me, his lips chapped and his eyes glistening. When he sees that my face reads something along the lines of ' _what the fuckity fuck are you talking about? Are you on drugs?_ ' and maybe my face even read ' _is there the perfect burrito recipe hidden in the clouds?_ ' but I doubt it, he dives into deeper detail. "People. They hide all the bad inside, with a bright smile. Everything they don't want people to see gets covered up, but that means all the good stuff gets covered up too. All the stuff that makes people fall in love with each other. People love the sun, but they don't really know anything else about the sky" He explains. 

"If you keep saying smart beautiful things like that, I'm kicking you out of the gang" I joke, but _damn_ , that was...deep. And maybe even true too. Maybe people fall in love with me for my bubbly personality, the outer shell I put on every day to hide the fact that I'm collapsing in on myself inside. But I come with a intense reputation. Brendon wouldn't believe me if I told him I'm not really the party animal he thought I was.

Even with that, right now, I'm happy, not bright cover-up happy, like real time summertime happiness. It's all Mikey, it's always Mikey. I just want to reach out and kiss him, tell him how much he means to me. I can't bring myself to either. So I settle with relaxing back into the grass, closing my eyes against the sun and thinking about the secrets behind the clouds. 

I went through a hard time a few months ago, it's no secret, but I never talk about it to anyone outside the shrink's office. Mostly because I have to but the room itself is comforting. Black leather couch, two chairs the same pattern, a cluttered desk and a black leather chair where he sits and listens to me talk about everything. My favourite times are when we sit and laugh about the funny stories but sometimes the room goes silent and the air is thick and it my voice doesn't sound like my own, when I talk about the thoughts inside my head. A lot of people just know about the attempt, but not really care to see if I'm okay. Sure they ask, but when someone says ' _yeah, I'm doing fine_ ', they probably aren't. But no one has the time to actually care, they only have enough time to at least _look_ like they care. The band is different, I know they actually care, but it's hard to see the look on their faces. They look so sad, and I hate making people feel like that because I know how much it sucks to feel that way. Plus, it's usually someone else starting the conversation, almost, controlling the conversation.

"I just wanted to turn my head off" I tell Mikey, because, well it's Mikey. That's the best reason I need for anything. Mikey gets me, Mikey's doing okay. He tilts his head to look at me to keep going, but he doesn't actually say anything because he knows that I just wanna talk right now. Whenever I talk to anyone else, they always have something to say. Usually it's like ' _I get it_ ' or ' _I care about you so much please come to me if you ever feel like that again_ ' (it should be _when_ I feel like that again because it's not just gonna go away with a warm hug), but Mikey's different. That's why he's so fucking great. "I was paranoid all the time, my anxiety was through the roof, I was so fucking tired but I couldn't sleep. I just wanted it to be quiet for a little while." I check to see if Mikey's still with me- he is , one hundred and ten percent, hanging on to my every word- before I continue. "It was never about dying, I just wanted peace." That's the biggest part no one understands. 

He just turns to look at me, then places his hand on top of mine as if to say ' _you'll be okay_ ', but he doesn't have to say it, I don't want him to say it. It's perfect how it is.

\-------------------

That night, when the sun goes down, I drag him to the top of my bus to lay down on the cold - to - the - touch metal to stare into outer space. If I think about it too long I tend to trip over my own head and convince myself that I don't really exist. But it's still cool to think about the millions of unexplored universes. Like, an alternative universe scenario would be interesting to learn about, if it were a real thing. Like, what would my alternative be? Maybe I'd be a really hot chick with like, double D's. Right now though, I'm pretty happy with where I'm at. Mostly 'cause Mikey's here. My life would be pretty sucky without Mikey. I'd be laying up here alone. Or worse, with someone who just wants to talk business the entire time. Seriously, sometimes investors or whatever will talk about money and shit from the time I see them until the time they leave. I dearly hope they have a real life, like, their whole life revolving around bratty punk bands isn't exactly a compelling hobby.

"This is my favourite city to play in, I always try to get my agent to book us here." I tell him. "The city runs on energy efficient stuff so the city lights are really dim, if on at all. You never get to see stars this vibrant out in the city"

"Chicago boy loves the attributes of the countryside, but living there would just be too horrible, with all the bugs and plant life, and the no Starbucks for fifty miles" Mikey silently laughs to himself

"No Starbucks on my corner?" I gasp jokingly. "Never going anywhere near a hellhole like that"

This time I hear Mikey's small laughs, bubbling out of his throat, escaping his lips. He's even smiling a bit at the thought of me having to go without Starbucks, and I just want to kiss his smile until he smiles even bigger. 

"Okay, Okay" I calm down his giggles "I may suck at farming or whatever the hell it is they do out there, but I'm really good at constellations"

"Oh are you now?" He raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Hell yeah, MWay, if I were still a Cub Scout, I'd have thirty astronomy badges!"

"Still a Cub Scout?" His lips twitching up as he thinks about me in a blue collared shirt with an orange bandana around my neck, doing dude things in the woods. Well, I suppose it kinda was like that. If 'dude things' are managing to fuck everything up. Seriously, I had almost drowned a leader or two, started a boy on fire and almost got the camp eaten by a grizzly bear, and that was only one night. 

"Shhh" I wave him off. "Stars" I point up. "See that little line of stars, well they connect to those, the ones that curve down and around, then back up, yeah, that's Princess Corpse, she slays all those who make fun of former Cub Scouts" Mikey giggles and I smile hard, but keep going. "Behind her, is a moose, you see the antlers and the legs, it only has three legs though, yeah, he got into a fight with a blender. The blender died, and Mr. One-Less-Legged-Moose lost a limb. It gets all the ladies though. There's a prostitute bunny named Chi-Chi, she's got daddy issues and doesn't like to talk about it. Her best friend, Cricket the Christian bearded dragon is right next to her. Cricket doesn't approve of her friend's life choices and whenever she confronts her about it, Chi-Chi just responds with 'Talk to the booty 'cause the hand's off duty!'" 

Mikey's laughing really hard now, and I'm smiling along too. I love making him laugh, he rarely smiles for anyone, not even his brother, much less laugh. It makes me feel special, like I'm worth something. If anything, a superhero with my only power being the ability to make Mikey laugh. It's the best ability out there. I think my superhero's name would be Susan. Why? I don't know. Probably because I secretly want to be a suburban white mum who yells at other mums at the bake sale and ends up flipping Betty's brownies because she's being a bitch and my brownies are better anyways. 

I continue telling him stories about the monk from Canada and his lesbian lover, Jack Skeleton from Nightmare Before Christmas until our sides hurt too much from laughing and I can't get out another word. 

We both end up leaning into each other, and when we're done with the most intense giggle fest of 2005, we're staring into each other's eyes. I feel bad for making so much noise, it must be at least one in the morning, but that thought disappears when I melt into Mikey's chocolate brown eyes. After a moment of trying to catch our breaths, and staring at each other lovingly in a totally platonic way, I sneak my hand into his, in a totally platonic way. 

"I can't believe how happy you make me" I tell him, he smiles and ducks down, averting his eyes from mine. 

"It wasn't me, I'm just kinda here" he shrugs. 

I frown, because, no, if he were not here, I would not be happy, therefore making him the maker of the happiness. "Follow me" I pull him up to drag him off the roof of the bus, quietly because if the guys are asleep I do not want to wake them up. Joe isn't the nicest person when woken up for anything besides weed, food or to play music. I don't think this counts as any of those three exceptions. 

I lead him to underneath the dim lamppost,  where I can now see clearly. It's not perfect, but it's enough. I take the black sharpie that I always keep in my backpocket, out and put the cap on the end of the marker so the ink part is exposed. I take the top of his right arm and in big bold letters write out 'EASY'. 

"It's so you remember to go easy on yourself" I explain to him. He makes me feel happy, now I need him to know he is needed. That's what Sweet Little Dudes do for each other. 

"I see" he ponders for a moment. "But do you need to write it so big? I have shows and shit tomorrow"

"Yes" I smile widely at him then click the cap back on and stick it in my back pocket. The lucky sharpie, I'm actually surprised it hasn't run dry yet considering how much stuff I've been signing. "Now everyone will know how awesome you are. Because 'EASY' could also sand for "Excellent And Super Youngin" 

"Youngin?" he asks. "What are you? eighty?"

I laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but enjoy the acronym anyways. "Yeah, eighty years old and still going hard, wheelchair races and pushing over nurses on the way to the Jello line 'cause if I don't get there in time Scumbag Steven's gonna take the last red Jello, again."

He laughs, wholeheartedly, he always listens to what I tell him no matter how insane it seems or how busy he is at the moment, but  he's also examining the non permanent tattoo softly, tracing the lines of the words with his fingertips, just like he did with my tattoo earlier this evening. I watch him, with loving eyes. It's just the way he looks in the light of the lamppost in the middle of the parking lot, that makes my heart jump like I'm a teenager again. It seemed just slightly off the key of reason, the thought that's running through my head. It's a positive thought, unlike all the other thoughts that normally pollute my brain and make me sick.  

I hold the hand of the arm he's examining, threading my fingers through his. He looks up at me, with the incredibly straight face I so much adore, the light bounces off his glasses and makes his eyes look softer and more innocent than usual. I stroke my his hand with my thumb, rubbing his dried, cracked skin against my calloused print. He parts his lips as if to say something, but never does. My lips would fit right between his. I lean in, not even slightly panicking at the idea of kissing a boy, because the boy is Mikey Way. I gently push my bottom lip between his two soft lips. It's not like kissing a boy either, it's like kissing _Mikey_. So much for keeping this just friends, but I love every second of it. I don't want to let go, I want to stay like this forever. Never having to untangle myself from his presence, but I find myself curious to know what he's thinking. 

As I slip away from his lips, I look back up at him my eyes wide and questioning I imagine. Mikey doesn't show any emotion-I'm not sure why I thought he would anyways- but seconds feel like hours and I freak out a little more every second kept in stiff silence. Adoring the boy in front of me I begin to feel as if I bit off more than I can chew and start to feel the heavy heat of regret. Why am I so stupid? I can't have one nice thing without fucking it up! I feel my heart starting to beat faster and faster. I should not have done that. _I should not have done that._ Fuck, he's going to hate me forever. The best thing that's ever happened to me, down the drain. Nice going, Pete. You fuc-

A pair of lips are on mine again, and I can breathe again. "Are you okay now?" Mikey asks as we pull apart. I'm still shaking, still holding his hand tightly, so tightly I'm concerned as to how it hasn't broken yet. Mikey almost reminds me of that green stretchy guy who kinda look like an airhead candy, Gumby I think- becauses he's nearly indestructible underneath my strength.

"Y-yeah" I take a shaky deep breath in. "I was just, freaking out for a second" It's the unknown really freaking me out. I want to know what Mikey is thinking, what he's feeling. God, I'd even take a slap to the face right now, just to not have this awkward unknown air floating around us. "I'd be better if you let me kiss you again..." I tried, and I honestly don't expect it to work. Mikey is so chill, I'm so not, we aren't compatible. Everything that could possible go wrong will go wrong. But when he whispers 'of course' and let's me kiss him again, softly, I forget it all. 

Something always seems to interrupt our peace, this time, it's two drunk guys from a side stage band. We jump away from each other at the sound, but I refuse to let go of his hand. "Poparazzi!" I keep it under a scream considering the time of night, but put enough emphasis to get my point across. I tug on Mikey's hand and start running the direction the drunk band dude are not in. The run was short lasted, thirty seconds to be exact, before I had to stop and breathe. I'm not out of shape, I'm just a tiny dude with tiny lungs, I promise. I'm pretty sure Patrick has at least five lungs, because not only can he hit the odd notes,  but he can probably run farther than me without feeling the need to lay down for a year or so.

"You know they were just the techies from the side stage, right?" Mikey looks at me quizzically, probably because I'm panting after the short sprint, whereas he hasn't even broken a sweat. It's the long legs. I need to get myself a pair of those. Though, I don't believe I can just walk into the nearest Walmart and buy a fresh set of long legs. But now I know what I want to do when I'm done with Fall Out Boy.

I shrug. "Whatever" I knew it, but it was more fun to pretend they were poparazzi, or maybe not, poparazzi would've been sober enough to get pictures of us kissing and that's not something I want leaked, like ever. I'd kill 'em. I could take them down. I'm like a leaping tiger. 

"C'mon doofus" he shakes his head in humour before leading me a few buses down to where his bus was sitting the front lounge light on. Mikey types in his door code that makes the bus hiss and crack as the door swings open. We haven't really talked about Gerard, what the plan was. Mikey told me that he apologised to Gerard, who in return apologised for how he came across, but is still keeping his opinion on me the same. Mikey leads me up the steps, slowing at the top. I don't peek over because I would prefer it if I didn't get punched in the face by an angry brother, like, ever. I watch him lean against the small little divider and begin to talk to his brother. Right now, it's easier to play along than question what the plan is to avoid my death. 

"Hey, where have you been?" Frank asks, I imagine him looking up from his black Italian book of ' _How To Beat Up Anyone With Special Feature: How to Run A Mob_ '. I nearly laugh, but I remind myself of the situation and the angry brother, Italian mobster combo against small emo child does not look like it will turn out good for the latter. 

"I met up with one the band that won the Battle Of The Bands thing. They're actually pretty cool!" Mikey is pretty convincing, though, he really only has one tone and it's neutral. Considering the fact that what he was actually doing, holding hands and kissing his brother's archenemy... yeah that's probably something I hope he won't bring up in the near future. 

I imagine Gerard rolling his eyes as he says "Was Pete there?" in an unamused tone, because he's just that sassy. I wonder just how he got to be like that. I like to think it's because of the unnecessary stage humping Gerard and Frank do. But the thought of him adopting it from like his dad or something is something I consider hilarious

"Gerard..." Mikey trails off in a sigh. I think about leaving, but Mikey reaches his hand behind him, making grabby hands at me until I take hold, then he squeezes lightly. Like he knew I was going to bolt and wanted me to say. He just knows things. He can probably read my mind, or just has terribly good luck and loves to flirt with coincidence. 

"Control him please" Mikey says, mostly to Frank, like his older brother is a giant german shepherd here to maul any new comers. I don't have much time to freak out because Mikey's pulling me up and I'm making a magician's entrance.

I try not to look at Gerard at all, especially not into his eyes, he could be like Medusa for all I know and one second glance too long and poof! I'm a stone version of Pete. Not stoned, because getting high is fun, becoming a hunk of cement is slightly less fun. 

"Mik-" Gerard doesn't even get Mikey's full name out in a scolding fashion before Frank is slapping his hand over Gerard's mouth. It's the hand with 'WEEN' written on it and it makes me giggle, though, now is not an appropriate time for giggles, so I refrain. 

"Hi Pete!" Frank smiles warmly in my direction, clearly not caring that Gerard is licking and biting his hand in attempt to be able to speak to, and properly scold, his brother again. 

"Hey Frank, what's up?" I smile back at him, a little awkwardly, but I get some slack considering the situation.

"Oh, you know, the usual, I'm kinda having flashbacks to when my dog was a puppy" he glares at Gerard on the last part, who shoots back a thirty times as more deadly glare. "Anyways" Ireo continues after a moment. "You two kids have fun. Use protection"

"Mom!" Mikey has a joking tone but his cheeks are tinted pink with embarrassment. "You're embarrassing me, why do you have to be so uncool? I hate you"

Frank laughs, and so do I. I'd like to believe Mikey said the exact same things to his mother when he was in High School. My mum  had never been that cool, I think coming home holding hands with a boy would be scary enough for her, but the thought of them having sex? Butt sex nonetheless. I think she'd explode. Though, the thought of anal for me is something I plan to stay away from. As of now, all I can think of is shit coming out of that hole, and my dick should try to stay away from shit basically. Though, I could imagine Mikey eating glitter to shit sparkles, hell, Gerard is flamboyant enough to do that too, he probably started it. The Way brother's breakfast: glitter with a side of sequins. 

"What are you chuckling about?" He looks at me sideways as we approach his bunk, it's the bottom one like mine, but closer to the back. Clearly, I wasn't going to explain to him that the idea of him and his brother bonding over eating glitter so I just mutter a 'nothing' and follow him into the bunk. He passes me an earbud and he tells me to ignore the sounds of broken glass. I don't even want to imagine Gerard right now, so I put the earbud in my left ear, he puts his in his right, and our heads are together, fitting perfectly like they're meant to be together, like I finally found the missing puzzle piece that I lost under the couch. 

We lay, in contentedness, passing a bottle of beer back and forth, listening to whatever Mikey has stored on his silver little iPod. I trace little lines on the inside of his wrist, thinking about us, thinking about the summer. I didn't dare venture off to the end of summer, I kept my thoughts in safe places. 

Everyone had pretty much stumbled off to bed by three in the morning, leaving Mikey and I to safely inhabit the wee hours of the night without interruption or disturbance. We had shifted throughout the hour and a half into a more cuddly situation. My head against his chest, his arms around my hips, the right arm superior to the left and tapping along to the beat of the music against my hip. 

I push my body up slightly and peck his lips, because that's all I've been thinking about the entire time, when the next time I'm going to taste his sugary sweet lips that made me fly. Then, I kiss him again, this time not for a quick second. My hands are pulling him down by the neck, to get closer, if that's even possible. There's just this buzz humming through my entire body, I never want it to go away. It makes me feel like an electrical wire, full of life all the time. He licks the bottom of my lip with his tongue and there's nothing I want more than to let him slip his tongue into my mouth. I open my mouth enough to let him know I'm interested, but he keeps up what he's doing, kissing with soft passion and gently rubbing his tongue across my bottom lip for a fraction of a second. I open a little bigger, in case he didn't get the hint, but he keeps his steady pattern going. 

"Stop teasing" I gasp, my voice gone hoarse. I don't know where it came from, the lack of control. But I trust him, so I allow myself to relax into it. I can taste the remains of this last smoke that still lingered across his lips and chased the feeling. With him, I'm doing things, feeling things, I had never imagined possible. I have no clue as to what he is doing to me, but it's exhilarating, enticing and a little frightening. 

He smirks against my lips. "I'm not teasing" He flicks his tongue across my bottom lip again and I lean into it. I'm _never_ above begging, but making out shouldn't require such a thing. All I want to do it make out with him. Seriously, one activity to do for my entire life, it'd be making out. Scratch that, it'd be sex because you still get to make out during it if you wanna, plus there's the amazing ' _fuck yes_ ' feeling that you're guaranteed to have.

"You're evil, Mikeyway" I tell him with a small hint of bubbling humour. He's quite the opposite actually. He's so unevil...? (Anti evil...? Not evil...? Whatever.) that he can make a teddy bear look menacing. 

"The evilest" He concludes. Flicking his tongue over my lips once more before finally licking into my mouth and oh my god, yes. Making out is always my favourite. It's all heated and fun without an awkward mess, in more ways than one. That's just what it becomes, heated and glorious all above the waist. Mikey doesn't try for more, I don't ask for more and we simply just enjoy the night. For two insomniacs with a light schedule, it's a nice night composed of lots of cuddles, giggles and the occasional singing, mainly from Pete.

 

 


	5. Chlorine Kissed Skin On A Weekday

Finally, a day off arises. The entire plan is to go to the waterpark all day. I know it's a hot day in the middle of summer, but at least it's like... a Wednesday or something. Plus we're in Wisconsin! It's the waterpark capital of the world, or United States. Fact checking is not one of my strong suits.

Somehow, Mikey convinced Gerard that I was infact, not out for blood, and Gerard's going to try to be civil with me. As far as anyone's concerned, we're just best friends. I mean, I guess it's not a lie either. Mikey and I haven't really talked about what we are. Maybe that's okay, because I don't need complications right now. Having a boyfriend would make everything a lot more twisted and knotted. But, having a best friend, who happens to be a dude, who I occasionally kiss, and make out with, and hold hands with. Normal besties behaviour. Gerard's only pretending to be okay with my friendship with his brother because he cares about Mikey and he's glad his little brother is happy, (also, because Mikey threatened him with taking away his coffee if he didn't at least pretend to be nice). The Way brothers are so different from everyone else. You wouldn't see it if you didn't really know them, but it's definitely there. Their excessive love for coffee, their overarching nerdiness and the ability to talk about comic books, how they can be so complex whilst looking like a puzzle made for  a five year old. I never would've even _looked_ at Mikey in high school, he's a total nerd. But I'm glad I met him now because the nerdiness is just another thing about Mikey that is easy to adore.

Anyways, waterparks, the whole gang, Fall Out Boy, My Chem., a perfect recipe for ultimate, disastrous, fun. "Come on!" Patrick urged me to get off the bus. But, no, I was not getting off the bus just yet because there is one strand of hair that refuses to straighten. If I have to keep up my emo reputation, I need straight hair. "You're going to mess up your hair anyways!"

"You don't know what it's like!" I yell back. Patrick has it easy, he was born with straight hair. Or maybe it's Maybelline. Regardless, my hair is determined to not be straight and only in one spot. I swear to god, _Mikey's gonna see me_ , I look like a plane crash. Though, we have seen each other looking worse, this is Warped Tour after all, three weeks without washing mud caked jeans isn't exactly the prettiest. At one point last week, I hadn't slept for about a week, it was raining so naturally I was covered in mud, and to top it off my coffee maker broke; I pretty much looked like a zombie. Hell, I'm surprised no one thought the zombie apocalypse had started when I walked out of my bus to go steal coffee from Mikey's stash. They have enough coffee in their bus to last any normal person ten years, but for the Way's, at most to the end of tour.

"Mikey says we should leave with out you, everyone's pretty much with him on that one." Patrick has a joking tone on him, but I don't dare take my chances. I take a second to gasp, because, _how dare Mikey say such a thing_ , then turn off the straightener. Carefully setting it on the counter, I learnt my lesson not to rush when setting it down, I've burnt my hand more than once and almost burnt the bus down, then I scamper out the bus door and into the SUV.

"How dare you Mikeyway!" I slide into the bench seat next to him. I'm gripping my red duffle bag where I had packed swim trunks and a towel. I wanted to go in my swim trunks so I could go out right away, but Andy said no one was wearing their trunks there so he'd have to go alone, that and he points out that I'd soak the seats with chlorine on the way back and I'm pretty Billy would kill me "I thought we had something special!"

"Yeah, but the waterpark is certainly a lot cooler than you" He retorts. I gasp jokingly and put my hand to my chest, acting offended. The car starts to roll away, Ray driving with Patrick giving him directions from the passenger seat. The van is rather large with two rows to sit three people each. This, is like, one seat to many. The middle row has me, Mikey and Joe, and in the way back there's Andy, Bob, Gerard and Frank sitting on Gerard's lap. I feel like their gayness is limited to just on stage, but you never really know. Tour gets lonely, given, I never considered doing a dude, but clearly I'm not above making out with them. Though, unlike with Mikey, I wasn't sober, it didn't really mean anything. Mikey said that nothing happens off stage, but there was a few sketchy hotel nights and uncomfortable words exchanged that he'd rather not think about. Which, yeah, I can understand that because who would want to think about their brother doing their best friend in the ass? Not anyone I know and certainly not Mikey.

With Gerard seated behind me though, I kept quiet, he's in a pretty good position to choke me or cut my head off with the seatbelt. I think Frank would stop him, he seems to be on our side. Frank is such a cool dude, like he can be hyperactive all the time but then just snap into seriousness if need be. Plus, he may be close with Gerard, but he was Mikey's best friend first, they've known each other forever. Once, Mikey recalled a time they skipped school together to go smoke weed, then ended up running from the cops for a few hours, before finally losing the cops and stopping at an IHop for lunch.

Once we got to the Kalahari Waterpark, I practically burst through out the car door before Ray even put it in park, and dragged Mikey behind me. "First we're gonna go down every slide, then the toilet bowl one two more times, then we're gonna challenged Joe to pool basketball, which is way more intense than regular basketball. Of course, we'll have to hit up the food hut one or tenish times. And the lazy river too!" I babble out all the way to the locker room.

"Calm down, Petey" Andy says, shaking his head and laughing at my childness. We get a few odd looks from guys around us, which I get because there's nine emos casually invading a waterpark. Who knows? We might eat their children in the name of Satan.  "We have all day here."

"That's not enough time!" I'm practically bouncing out of my skin. So as soon as Mikey is dressed for the occasion, I'm tugging him along to the slides, only slowing down momentarily when a lifeguard yells at us for running. The queues are long, but I fill my time playing twenty questions with Mikey. Mikey just follows me around everywhere, never complaining, especially when my favourite slide has the longest queue and I insist on going on it fifty times in a row.

After a few hours of trying to get Mikey out of his shirt (He refuses to ever take it off, I swear, I will never see his stomach, it's not like he's hiding a giant alien under there) and dragging him all over the park, Ray finds us and tells us that he's rounding everyone up for dinner. Until then, I hadn't realised that I haven't eaten since before we arrived here. "Fuck yeah" I cheer as we walk towards the diner, "I haven't eaten since noon thirty!"

"Noon thirty?" Mikey inquires, as we push through the door to the diner, instantly hitting us with the glorious smells of food. I shrug and we sit down at the table with the rest of our friends, Mikey on my right, Patrick on my left and Gerard across from me. I could worry about it, but there's not enough time because the server is bringing us my secret lover, pizza.

Joe and Frank are in a heated discussion about the importance of cats in glasses, at the end of the table. Then there's Ray and Bob arguing just who's the grill master, Ray even calls himself 'The Sauce Master'. I've tried his grilling on the first day Warped Tour, it's amazing and I highly doubt anyone could top that, and if they could, I'd probably die of sensory overload. Andy rubs his head and tells Joe and Frank that dogs in _sun_ glasses is where it's at, which brings that debate up fifty notches. Mikey, Gerard and Patrick were talking about something or other. I wasn't paying attention, I was thinking about the way goosebumps are appearing on Mikey skin, raising the thin hairs on his pale arms. 'EASY' is still fairly noticeable considering how pale the dude is, but it's beginning to wear down with all the sweat and playing at shows and now all the water here.

"Pete" Patrick elbows me in the side. I yelp and rub the side, he has boney elbows, it's times like these that I consider duct taping pillows to the joints because I'm pretty sure my spleen with burst soon. "Gerard complemented us on the new album and I was just telling him and Mikey how you write all the lyrics."

"Oh, yeah" I blink a few times to focus myself back into reality. I never mean to be rude about it, I just zone out, get lost in my own head. Sometimes, like just now, it's good for me. I like learning things about people, when I zone out I'll like, pay higher attention to stupid details. I learnt that Mikey needs to learn how to tan, he's practically albino. "Yeah."

"It's good stuff" Gerard says with a smile, a smile that I find unsettling. He could be planning something, or he could just have the intense fear of getting his coffee taken away. I hope it's the latter. If he's already scary with coffee, I'd hate to see what would happen if he's coffeeless. I'm sure he would direct most of his anger towards me too, because if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have gotten it taken away. Even though he's old enough to control his words, I kinda get where he's coming from. Big brother is the caretaker of his little brother. From what I can tell, he always was. Whether it was prepping Mikey a snack or putting a band aid on a non-existent cut just to get Mikey to stop crying, he was always there. After pulling himself through a tough spot, I bet he's still a little fragile and he needs Mikey to be okay so he can be okay. I don't think Mikey realises that, probably because he doesn't understand. Little brothers are always used to being little brothers, being protected and loved.

"Thanks" I mumble against the bite of cheesy pizza. It's not the best pizza I've ever had, but all pizza is good pizza, so even when it's bad, it's still pretty damn great. As of now, I'm trying really hard to keep my mouth shut because one wrong thing could set Gerard off and I don't think I'm prepared for such an event.

"I like the lyrics from 'Dark Alley And A Bad Idea', oh how does it go? ' _something awful just like kisses on the necks of "best friends"_ '?" I nearly spit out my drink. Because clearly, that was written before Mikey, therefore he can't be suggesting anything in that direction. But then he has to be referencing personal experience. Did he just admit to what I think he admitted to? But then, he says "Do you always fall in love with your best friends?" and I nearly vomit. Yeah, he's talking about Mikey now. But he has no proof that anything is going on between us.

I look over to Mikey for help but he didn't even notice. He's quickly typing away at his sidekick. Patrick, on the other hand has a confused look, but he also looks a little sick too. He knows who that lyric is really about, and I won't be okay if I have to explain it.

Luckily, Patrick jumps in "Actually, I wrote that one. Pete wrote the majority of the lyrics but I filled in some. There was this girl, who always kissed the air between people's cheeks, like French people, she would kiss my cheeks and tell me that it meant we were best friends. Pete just switched 'cheeks' to 'necks' because it sounded better" I try not to act surprised when Patrick says that like it really happened. I'm certainly not going to question it though, he's my saviour at the moment.

Gerard looks a little embarrassed and changes the subject, which is probably good because I doubt Patrick could've kept up steadily on the lie. He tells us about how he and Mikey used to go to this one rock up on the hill side in their hometown. How they'd always have picnics and stuff up there. I counter his story with a similar one, telling him how I used to sneak up to the roof late, late at night. Just to squint at the stars that fought to shine against the city's power.

Mikey excuses himself, telling me that he had to take a phone call. But then he looked at Gerard and they had some kind of silent communication and I felt left out. I wish he'd stay though, Gerard kind of has free range now, with only Patrick to protect me, even then, he's about as bulletproof as a piece of paper. I think he's used up all of his bullet deflecting for the day anyways.

"You dating anyone, Pete?" Gerard smiles, just making friendly conversation. Totally just making simple small talk. He can't suspect me of dating his brother. I had predicted that if he ever caught wind of such thing that I would be castrated and sent out to sea in the middle of the night. I don't know how he'd do it, but he's from New Jersey and I'm pretty sure Frank has really close connections in the mob. I wouldn't put it past him to make just about anything happen.

"Nah," I try to add a little bit of truth within my words "I just had a bad break up" Which was true. We've been on and off for years and when I cracked, she escaped. But the more I stitch my head back together, the more okay I become without her, I realise just how toxic she really was.

"I saw this band," Gerard gushes. His eye sparkle a little and they seem a little distant, as if recalling and replaying a memory behind them. "'Mindless Self Indulgence', their bassist is spectacular."

"That's great" I smile at him as I see Mikey come up behind him and ruffle his hair. Like, full on fingers creating tangles and making hairs fly everywhere. Even worse than it was before, if possible, Gerard has longer black hair but it rarely seems like he makes an effort to wash or comb it.

"Argh! Mikey!" Gerard says, he doesn't try to smooth down the mess Mikey made of his hair, he's just scolding him for doing such a thing. Though, he seems nowhere near as scary as if you tried to touch Mikey's hair. Joe went to ruffle his hair one day and Mikey nearly cut off his hands. I am the exception, he lets me run his fingers through his hair when we kiss, he even makes a little noise if I tug a little bit. But I don't dare try to touch his hair outside of that, I already have one Way brother out for my head, I don't need them both, especially over the fact that I couldn't keep my hands to myself, like I forgot basic kindergarten stuff.

Mikey bumps his shoulder against mine as he sinks himself back down into his chair. "Can we go back out now?" I ask excitedly, as if I didn't just inhale an entire pizza. There's only a few hours left in the park and I plan on using it to the fullest extent. Even if I have to 'accidently' knock a kid over to get to the front of the queue.

"You have to wait thirty minutes after you eat" Patrick advises, putting his hand on my shoulder to keep me from bouncing up and running away. I am a grown adult, the thirty minute rule is just an old wive's tale for children. No one actually believes it. I bet there's not even scientific reasoning proving that I should waist.

"I'm not six, 'Trick, I can handle water with pizza in my stomach" I tell him matter - of - factly. Because I'm pretty sure me dunking Mikey in the pool has nothing to do with the digestion of pizza. Like what is going to happen? The pizza grows wings and flies out of my butt? No.

"Last time you said that, you threw up in the pool then demanded free pizza because the pizza was 'no longer in your soul'" This is true, I shouldn't have to pay for another pizza if I lost one. And I can't not eat another pizza because my soul was already excited about the amounts of pizza then it disappeared. I had to fix it before my soul started crying or something.

"That was one time!" I defended.

"Three, actually" Joe pipes in. Last I heard from that debate was that 'Santa is always on board for a twenty second handie'. I wonder what even happened, and what animal in glasses is the most important. I, personally, would've gone with Mikey. Mikey looks the best in his glasses, even when they're stained with dried watermarks.

I groan, sinking back into my chair. "You guys suck" but after a minute of pouting, I come up with the most brilliant idea in the entire world. "What if I just go on the lazy river? Can't lose my dinner if I'm laying face up on a tube"

"Pete, I _know_ you" Patrick sighs. "Do you really think you'll be able to sit still for thirty minutes?"

"I'm offended you doubt my skills" I gasp at him. I could totally do it if I wanted to, I just never have wanted to before because sitting for thirty minutes is boring. Well, I guess I have sat still for longer than thirty minutes actually, stargazing and cloud watching with Mikey. "What if I brought Mikey? He won't let me go anywhere"

"Mikey doesn't want to babysit you all day" Patrick throws a sympathetic look at Mikey. Like he's apologising that I am a child that he can't control. Which, I am not, I pay bills and can drive a car. Children cannot do those things. I'm pretty sure. I don't see many eight year olds on the road, but that might explain the L.A. traffic. Damn kids.

"It's fine" Mikey shrugs. Standing up from his spot, he has to brush against my shoulder again to get up but this time the sleeve of the tee shirt rucks up and the chlorine on our skin makes us stick together for a split second "it's better than listening to Frank discuss the finer arts of fire and destruction for another minute"

"Hey!" Frank laughs. "Fire and destruction are _essential_ to human life" I suppose he's right, I mean, name one human who wasn't destructive at least once. Every kid I have ever seen is just out to break stuff. I've lost a glass bowl and a picture frame to the neighbour's kid when I had to babysit for them.

"I know!" Mikey says to prove his point that Frank talks far too much on the subject. When I was a kid, I liked to pretend I was Godzilla and I'd make these giant block towers just to knock them down. It got to a point where anything stacked was a target for Petezilla and I ended up breaking my mum's fine china. To be fair, it shouldn't have been stacked up in such a tempting way. I think fine china is made out of stuff that compels people to want to protect it and break it at the same time.

I pull him away, walking quickly down to where a bunch of black tubes are laying around, waiting to be sat upon and used as a floatation device. We each grab one and steady ourselves on the steps leading into the water, so we can sit down safely before floating away.

"We can't lose each other" I tell him as I grab his hand, not even having to stretch between the two tubes since he has such long arms. I find it easy to relax, just close my eyes and let the current take me down the river. I feel like I have to _do something_ , like I'm going to jump out of my skin, but then I just focus on Mikey's skin under my fingertips. The callouses on my fingertips, from playing the bass too long and too hard, run smooth under his skin and I rub small circles in the void between two of his finger bones.

After an hour, of occasionally talking to Mikey, but mostly enjoying the peace that's hard to find on tour, I get restless. Time for pool basketball. The remainder of the day is spent by having Joe kick our asses at basketball, teams slowly trickling out of the pool to dry off. At the end, it's just Mikey, Patrick and me, but Patrick climbs out after I dunked him for the hundredth time.

"Come on Mikes" Gerard sticks his hand out to help his brother out of the pool. "Too much chlorine will turn you into a snake" I'm not sure what Gerard could possible mean by that but I crossed my fingers and waited for the moment when Mikey would tug Gerard into the pool. Though, it never happened. I shake my head, fucking Way brothers, I would've brought the other person in within seconds. But Mikey just got out. I think Mikey has a sixth sense or something. He can tell what people want, he could probably tell that Gerard would not have been very happy to be submerged in water again after finally drying off. Unlike me, I probably would've pissed someone off, made them crabby the rest of the night.

I followed Mikey out of the pool, and went to the locker room with the rest of the guys. Everyone was done changing before I even got out of my swim trunks. Probably because I ran around whipping everyone with the towel to make their backs have red marks, for five minutes until I slipped and fell. The pain in my tailbone told me it was probably time to get dressed just before Joe scolded me and told me that they were going to go bring the car around and to be outside when he gets there.

I waved him off and stood up, trying to ignore the fact that I'm going to have a weird bruise, as they all file out. The locker room becomes quiet and thick once they leave. I had thought I was alone, but I as I round the corner, I nearly jump out of my skin, seeing Mikey standing at his locker, digging through his bag. "Have you seen my extra shirt I brought?" Mikey asks, not noticing that I'm just calming down from a heart attack. "I don't want to go back in this wet one,  because if Jerry smells chlorine in there for longer than a week, he'll go on a hunting spree"

"This one?" I smirk pulling out some band tee with a red logo on it. I had stolen it from Mikey's bag because I thought it would be hilarious, it was, at least to me. But I'm still gonna make it better. I love teasing Mikey, his cheeks get all rosy and he looks at me with such innocent eyes. I don't know how he could have such innocent eyes one second then murderous eyes the next, but I want that superpower too.

"Thank you" He sounds relieved due to the fact that he won't have to deal with Jerry. Though, Jerry absolutely loves My Chem. that's why he let us use the car, 'cause Ray asked. Now, Fall Out Boy on the other hand, he doesn't like as much. Probably because I've almost started a few fires and I accidently hit him in the face with my bass. But to be fair, one time it was Joe starting the fire. Either way, I'm sure Jerry will blame us for the unpleasantry.

Mikey goes to reach for it, but I pull it away. He may have a height advantage but I got a short person advantage. Which is really just me squishing the material between the small of my back and the locker. "Nuh uh." I smirk. "You gotta kiss me first"

Mikey rolls his eyes but doesn't look totally against it, quite the opposite actually. He leans in for a quick kiss but I grab the base of his neck and pull him in tighter so his hand rest on my shoulder. I inch my hands down his sternum and feel his stomach quiver, all before resting my hands above his hips, pushing the damp material up just enough to let me drag my thumb over his skin. I push his shirt up until I have to part ways to pull the shirt over his head.

"You just wanted to see me shirtless" he concludes. He's right. It's curiosity, it's odd for dudes to be wearing shirts the majority of the time on Warped, and I've never seen Mikey shirtless. I assume it's like every other dude walking around all day, but I still want to feel close to him. But was I wrong about thinking he'd be like everyone else, he's nothing like anyone else, in every way. It's shown that the sunlight never quite reaches him, just by how pale he is. His skin is smooth, flat planes across his stomach instead of curves, there's indents between each rib, but it runs over so smooth. Like the day he had touched by ink, I touch his chlorine kissed skin, right between the ribs and his belly button.

He shivers involuntarily and clears his throat before speaking. "They're gonna leave us here" I wouldn't put it past them to just leave me here, Mikey though, I feel like Gerard wouldn't get two feet without making them stop and wait for him. Therefore, Mikey is my anchor. I kiss his lips again before handing his shirt back, which he quickly puts back on, then we walk out together, sliding back into the SUV for the short ride home. I feel good. Sitting next to Mikey. I'm watching his eyes flicker out the window and his skin slowly dry to form goosebumps again like at dinner. I can't wipe this stupid fucking grin off my face, and I don't know if I want to.

When we parted ways,  I wanted to kiss him again. Watch his eyelashes flutter under his glasses and his cheeks heat up because of the unexpected surprise. I considered it, as he talked with Frank whilst waiting for Gerard who was talking to Patrick. Mikey has his hands stuck into the front pockets of his black skinny jeans and his hip are naturally pushing forward, letting his torso lean back as Frank speaks. Frank's asking him how he plans to 'sleep with such dark jeans'. Mikey laughs, but only in a small way, not like with me when I tell him about the waffles and sprinkles incident. I mark it up as an inside joke when Mikey replies with 'how do you expect to sleep with such a heavy 'x'' and Frank throws his head back and laughs. I almost feel jealous, jealous someone else made Mikey smile, that Mikey made someone laugh who was not me. Clearly, Frank and him have been friends for ages, inside jokes and old laughter is a given, but I still wish it were me. 

I was going to say something, because staying quiet is not one of my strong suits, but Patrick is finished talking to Gerard and Gerard is slinging his arm over his brother's shoulder and walking with him towards the bus. 


	6. Where Did The Party Go?

With Mikey around, I've been hitting up more parties, seeing as Frank drags Mikey to nearly every one(because Gerard is painfully sober and Frank lost his wingman), I have a pretty good chance of catching up with him. It's a hot and sticky night. Like the liquor evaporated into the air and now it's just hanging there. It doesn't hit me too bad though. Summers of Chicago were unbearable at times. Back when the A.C. went out and all I had was small electric fan pointed at my sprawled out body on the bed, on the highest setting it could go. Those were the days that staying holed up in my bedroom was a lot easier than going out and playing football with my friends or doing much of anything really. It was brain meltingly hot back then, and almost getting to that point now.

Drunk Mikey is sometimes my favourite, he's normally looser and more open to smile. Tonight, is no different. I watch Mikey from across the room, not in a creepy way, but in a way that lets me observe him and essentially fall for him harder. Him and Frank are making their way across the room, well, more like parking lot but nevertheless, sliding into the group of people that are like the most drunken mosh pit - dance floor, ever. Mikey's awkward with his long limbs but in a way, it's still elegant. He's wearing my black and orange Clandestine hoodie on, the one he stole from my bunk this morning, and he's sporting a small smile on his face whilst dancing and singing along to 'American Idiot', _he's so adorable_. Bringing his arms down, they land on some guy's shoulders who's also smiling and singing along in a drunken way. No, this is not okay. Normally I wait until Frank runs off with a girl before I kidnap _my_ Mikey, but jealousy is surging through me, and the alcohol is only fueling it. I quickly get up from my spot on a camp chair, next to some guy who shared his weed, and headed over to Mikey after stumbling with a head rush.

Once I push my way to Mikey, I take him by the hips and he turns to face me in moments, forgetting the other guy, and letting his face light up with delight when he realised it was me. "Aws, Petey!" he cheers, beginning to dance with me. When I say dance, it means his arms over my shoulders and mine on his hips, the hips that are brushing against mine as they shake to the beat. "You came! I missed you" he'd actually seen me for his previous set, Patrick played the drums for a song and I came to see him. Well, I was already there watching Mikey, winking at him whenever I caught his eye, but it's always nice to support your best friend. Especially when I got to witness Patrick all giddy, saying he loved that and that it he misses preforming on drums.

"Did you miss me or did you miss kissing me?" I let the alcohol talk for itself now apparently. Mikey and I never talked about anything related to this really. We just kiss and let it be, having no need to talk about it. I realise that it didn't matter either way, so I kissed him before he got to answer. I know I shouldn't have done it, with all the witnesses, but they're all pretty plastered and focused on their own things. Most guys here are focused on girls, either on how to get them into bed with them, or they're already only a step away, making out and grinding. Either way, no one really has time to stop and gawk at two emo men making out. 

Mikey giggles and tells me we probably shouldn't do this in public. I agree, and lead him out of the crowd. On the walk back to my bus we hold hands and kiss each other lightly, holding on as we stumble over nothing. Once the bus door closed though, I had him pinned against the door, unable to even make it into a private setting, or whatever tour considers private at least. I ran through my head where my bandmates were, and as far as I'm concerned, none of them are here, they're at the party. I let a moan slip into his mouth and he's pushing back, saying the door handle was digging into his back. The lights aren't on, and I certainly cannot be bothered to turn them on, so we're kissing in the dark. Which, is probably better for me since I have a giant fucking smile plastered across my face as he's kissing my neck. At one point, this darkness would match how I felt, but maybe I fixed myself, I certainly didn't mean to. I couldn't have done it without Mikey either, he had stayed up with me 'til the lights went out, making me laugh without even trying.

We're stumbling back, knocking over DVD's that should not be in the middle of the walkway anyways. I have to let go of his lips as we climb into bed, but as soon as we are in the tiny bunk, we're making out again. Mikey has me wrapped so tightly around his finger that I'm even dreaming about the shape of his mouth, how it kisses me gently or smiles slightly. Right here and now, I don't even care. I close the thin black curtain, dropping us into a concealed, secret place, our own little pocket of the universe that's untouched by negativity and sadness. Everything feels so surreal, just being here with him under my fingertips. The alcohol clouds my general ideals and I'm getting hard and not stopping. I know I should stop, but I don't care. Before, I freaked out when I felt Mikey's hard on against my leg 'cause that's another dude's dick. But now, I'm just going with it, taking it a step further even, by grinding down onto him; pushing my hips down against him and not thinking about the repercussions because it feels _so good_ , and I love the way he says my name in the low throaty tone. I'm knocking his legs apart and pushing my thigh all the way up. He pushes up against my touch and I feel electric. Every move sending shocks and vibrations south.  I feel like a teenager again, because the heat is in my stomach and I'm coming without even getting my clothes off.

\----------------

I take him out, before our shows. We go to this little diner on main street of some too busy for life town. Mikey and I are the only ones here accepting and slowing down to be with life. That's nice, him and I, I am always running around but he really slows me down, in a good way though. We haven't talked about the drunken night, I'm not sure if I want to either. I'm not sure whether or not to be okay with what happened, but that doesn't stop me from kissing him behind the busses. He's acting as if it didn't happen, maybe he didn't want it to happen, maybe he doesn't remember. Maybe it was really only me who got off and he doesn't know that I got off, considering it was in my pants.  That only makes me feel shitter and a little bit pervy. 

Upon entering the diner I felt a blast back to the seventies, going out to eat with my parents. It was all sparkly red, vinyl booths with old jukeboxes and pastel greens and pinks. There was a little barstool area but we snuck to a back booth so we could sit real close with no one bothering us. A lady with blonde curly hair and a pink poodle skirt roller skates up to us, wielding a pen and a note pad and smiling like she actually enjoys working in the seventies again. She asks us what we'd like to order and I tell her an extra large milkshake to split. She smiles, as if she had ever lost her smile in the first place, then tells us it'll be right here, before skating away. 

The drink is here in no time, a big cold glass filled with chocolaty goodness with whipped cream and a cherry on top, with two red straws sticking out of either end. She tells us to enjoy then goes away to another customer. We leant our heads in close, giggling and sipping our drink. I put one hand on his and feel like I'm a teenager again, just getting lost in his mudpie eyes. My face scrunches up as I get an ice cream headache like a sweet avalanche. He laughs. Through my pain, I watch his eyes and nose crinkle against the weight of his smile. For a moment, I feel nearly addicted, addicted to the feeling I get whenever I think of him. It's a bubbly feeling that starts in my stomach and heart then spreads all over my entire body. "Man, fuck you Mikeyway!" I say when the headache is gone and I can drink the milkshake again. To which, I just get another brain freeze and decide to give up on life.

He tells me about a diner like this, outside a comic book shop, that his brother used to take him to after shopping for hours at said comic book shop. Of course, Gerard would sit and read the comic to Mikey as his little brother drank a chocolate milkshake. I tell him about a coffee shop that I used to go to everyday back in Chicago. It was one of those places where you can just sit and drink coffee and procrastinate going back out into the real world and deal with real problems. I told him how I used to just sit in there for hours, sometimes until the sun rose. They never kicked me out, I think they were afraid I was homeless, but I always payed for the coffee so maybe they just liked my constant income.

Mikey gets a text, and whatever it is causes him to turn red. Like beet red, embarrassed.  "What?" I ask, making grabby hands at his phone. He clicks it away and insists it's nothing, but I refuse to believe such a thing. "Mikeyway!" I pout because he's not looking me in the eye anymore. "I wanna know. I will tickle you for answers!"Mikey gasps because he _hates_ being tickled. Like if he weren't laughing so hard he'd probably not hesitate to punch me in the face, kind of hate. He bites his lip but flashes the screen in my direction. 

 _Oh god no_. That was one mistake that Mikey didn't need to see. Low and behold, he was holding up a picture of me, dick in hand, all sultry and mysterious for whatever lucky girl this was going to. I remember when this was leaked, it was a while ago, though I had thought it would've disappeared by now, lost at sea with all of the other weird ass pictures I've taken. I mean come on, the one with me in the bathtub with my dog is a thousand times more hilarious than this. Whatever scared face I was making made Mikey bust out laughing now. God damnit I hate this guy. "Where'd you get that?" I demand, having it be my turn to turn an awful shade of red. 

"Gerard" he gasps out between laughs. "He's protective! He takes great enjoyment within researching your every move. Apparently Joe sent him this treasure" I'm going to kill Joe. Full out murder him, then bring him back to life just to murder him again. _How dare he_. But, Mikey was laughing saying 'hey, it's not a bad dick', and that makes me feel strangely okay. So I laugh along too, telling him that there are infact better pictures of me out there, describing them, and saying just what was going through my head when I took the them.

"Know what else Gerard showed me?" He asks, very monotone. Every bad mistake I've made runs through my head but I hum to tell him to go on anyways. "Your livejournal account." Mikey watches my reaction, but I really just breathe a sigh of relief, because I don't doubt Gerard's digging abilities and he could've dug up a whole lot worse. Like the one time... with that pit bull... yeah gonna try to keep that out of the Way's hands. "'Totally back in love again'? Few sentences away from 'sunsets and water parks with Mikey Way'? You're very subtle."

"It's the best place to keep all our old mistakes." my lips twitch up into a small smile "A dot com for a refreshing journal update" Livejournal is this site I found a while ago when venturing off Myspace. I keep some cryptic thoughts in there, some secrets. But it's nothing like the secrets I hide in the journal I keep squished under my matress. That one's an old spiral notebook that I write tidbits of words down. Sometimes they make it into songs. But there are some that I keep to myself. Patrick adds a little bit of distance between the words and it's meanings with his voice. Not that it isn't spectacular, but there are some things I like to keep close to me. Some lines are full of hatred, mostly towards myself, but more recently I've been writing down lyrics that could be put into a love song that kids could have sex to. Maybe I'll put some of those into songs. But still, I can imagine a few ones that probably shouldn't be in there. One like 'I LOVE MIKEYWAY'. Not very subtle. 

"Mistakes?" Mikey asks, like it was as simple as 'do we need more chocolate chips?'. He didn't look offended, just curious. He could've been offended though, I wouldn't know. I wish I could get it, like he does. He just _gets_ people. He's so gentle and soft with people's hearts, so soft that I question as to why I kept it so locked up and protected for so long. He's nothing like me. I'm rough around the edges, not necessarily careful. I tend to act before I think, I probably hurt people doing that too, not just myself. Maybe he could teach me, one day, how to be like him. How to be so caring. 

"Yeah," I rack my brain to back track my way out of this. I realise I did not mean to say that. But shit pours out of my mouth like it has nowhere else to be. "What some may think of as mistakes, I believe are our best memories." I didn't really feel like going on about Patrick's disapproving looks and how he thinks that I'm making a huge mistake by not leaving Mikey alone. I disagree, even if he always knows what's best for me. Right now, I just want to be happy. Happy laughing with Mikey and that's more than enough for the both of us. I feel bad, like I'm neglecting Patrick at times. But he, and the rest of the band, had to drag me through a rough time, maybe they need a break. Besides, Patrick tends to get annoyed with my clinginess after a few days on tour, Mikey seems just lonely enough to embrace me being around him all the time. 

The sweetness never lasted long, between us in the little seventies diner. We had to go back, leave our faux domestic little life to go back to the world we really live in. I didn't want him to go yet, so I made him come to the stage with me. Seeing  as Patrick had played drums for their band, it was my turn to steal a little back. Though, I'm fairly certain Patrick isn't having a love affair with Bob. Bob kinda creeps all of us out, Patrick included. I couldn't imagine him going out of the way to make out with Bob behind IHop.  Though, I hope Patrick can have such an experience, when Mikey and I got into the messy make out session against the wall, we giggled all the way back to the busses. 

Anyways, after a large amount of begging, threats to never kiss him again and promises of a shared bunk with whispered sweet nothings tonight, Mikey agreed to come on stage with us this afternoon. Before 'Sugar We're Goin' Down Swingin'', I pull Mikey out onto stage and the crowd goes wild. I pull the bass up over my head and drop it down over Mikey's guiding it all the way to his shoulders. He's wearing his long black coat and grey beanie from our date earlier today, and still looks gorgeous as ever. The bassline starts, and I have to pull my eyes away from him, to do my super bouncy stage thing. I jump around, steal a mic, scream along with Patrick. 

My favourite is when I jump into the pit, with the kids clawing to crowd surf me away, and the security guards trying to get me back, but I kick away their attempts. Patrick always watches over me when I'm out there, he's concerned, afraid I'll get sucked in or die in there with all the teenage girls. But now there's two boys above me that's looking out for me, and it feels great, like this is how it should always be. Catching a glimpse of Mikey, I see he's watching me behind his glasses, afraid I'll never come back, but he's smiling. This is the first time I think I've ever seen him smile on stage. Like, he has never smiled with MCR. Now, I fight my way back up just to see Mikey, full time, smiling like this is finally where he's meant to be. 

"I love you Mikeyway" I tell him, as I gather myself back onto the stage. He smiles and nods. I know he didn't hear me though, the music is far too loud and we've all got ear protectants in. But I still tell him anyways. I tell him now, when he can't hear me because I don't actually want him to know, just in case it's not real, or he doesn't feel the same. But now, I'm giddy from the crowd's energy and I'm never giving this feeling up. 

After our set, I steal him away again. Locking him between amps and crates in private secrecy. There's an hour before his set, I know, but that's one good half hour, maybe forty five minutes if I'm lucky, of lip biting and giggle until I have to give him up. Last time I tried to keep Mikey all the way up until the minute before he had to go on stage, Gerard looked as if I had ate a puppy in front of him then proceeded to slap me on the back of the head saying that Mikey was _his_. At least his for the next hour before I stole him back again and kissed him until our lips were all red and swollen. 

"Mikeyway"I kind of whine against his neck. It feels pathetic, but Mikey understands. The time's ticking away until I have to let him leave my embrace to play his bass. I know I'd stay with him and watch him the whole concert, and probably steal him away again after. But there's just this tugging need to _be with him_. I can't explain it. 

"I can't hang out with you after my show" He tells me, giggling at the tickle of my breath on his neck. This, now ruins my plans of hanging out with him after now. This, makes my heartache more for some reason, it makes my heart tug and want to jump out and consume Mikey. "Gerard has been having bad dreams and since I haven't been there I haven't heard any of it, and that's 'bad juju'" his hands leave my lower back to put up air quotes, before falling back around my hips. 

I lift my head off his shoulder and pout visably. "But, that means, I won't see you 'til tomorrow morning when we hit the venue. Who's gonna talk to me about Captain Kirk for so long I get bored and fall asleep, despite my evil sleep insomnia"

Mikey laughs. "Try Andy. We had a deep conversation about it once, when you were too pissed to move" I don't remember such a thing, if I was drunk, I would've been groping Mikey, there would be no way I would just lie there and listen to those two bicker of Star Wars or Star Trek or whatever the hell it is nerds are into these days. Seriously, somedays Mikey and I are so hammered we end up making out on the couch until  Joe kicks us back to our bunks. As the days go on, I assume that my bandmates are getting the idea that Mikey and I are more than just friends. Whenever I'm confronted about it, I lie and say it only happens when we're drunk, that I don't have any actual feelings for him. 

"Andy sucks at cuddling" I protest. "He's the equivalent to trying to sleep with a boulder." seriously though, he's a sweetheart, but he is too over exercised and his muscles are definitely not pillows. Mikey doesn't have a whole lot of fluff, he's mostly bones with some skin plastered over them, but that means I can listen to his heart beat louder, at a steady pace.

Mikey shakes his head and nudges me with his nose. His eyes flutter shut, like he hasn't gotten enough sleep in the past year, (He probably hasn't, it's probably my fault too). "You'll survive" He pushes confidence onto me. I may as well survive, but will I live without him? Doubtfully. 

That night, Mikey and I on our own perspective busses, was the most boring night I had. I had to watch Mikey climb onto his own bus, through my bus window, and he laughed at something Frank said. Mikey grabbed a poptart before plopping down, with his back to me. Then the bus took off. I tried texting him, but he didn't reply. Knowing Gerard, he probably confiscated it from the boy because he's selfish and doesn't care about the fact that I'm bored and need Mikey for entertainment. I try to sit and watch a movie after that, but I'm too antsy and I piss Joe off so much that he throws the entire bowl of popcorn at me. I take that as a hint to leave, so I find Patrick, who is laying on the couch in the back lounge with his laptop on his stomach. 

"Pattycakes" I jump ontop of him, much like a giant German Shepherd who hasn't seen it's owner since the owner left to get the mail about a minute ago. He groans and tries to push me off, and it works, seeing as I fall to the floor on my ass with a hollow 'thunk'. Rude. I could've broke my butt knuckle. How interesting would that be to tell people? ' _Hi, oh yeah, this? I broke my ass. Yeah, very unfortunate_.'

"I know you are missing your bestie" Patrick sighs "but I have _real_ work, for this _real_ band I'm in. Where we get paid _real_ money and I _really_ need to hire an account." He sighs, and looks at me hopefully "Unless you wanna help?" I take that as a ' _get out whilst you still can_ ', and sulk off to my bunk. I feign sleep until Mikey's text comes in, causing me to jump out of my skin, but I reply instantly nonetheless.

_Mikeyfuckingway: Gerard finally fell asleep_

_Pwentz: did u drug him xD_

_Mikeyfuckingway: Maybe..._

_Pwentz: Lol so wat was it all abut?_

_Mikeyfuckingway: The usual 'bus starts on fire everyone dies' thing_

_Pwentz: Sucks. I miss u._

I hear Patrick groan and give up on his project of money, before sliding into his bunk. Now, all of the guys have gone to bed and the lights are turned off for the rest of the night. Night always seems lonelier once they go to bed. The only sound being the hum of the A.C and the road beneath us. That's why I like Mikey here, because he stays up with me and makes the nights a little more bearable. I decide to call him, hovering my thumb over his little green phone symbol for a only a moment. 

"Do you think penguins have teeth?" I ask as soon as the phone stops ringing. We have no need for casualties anymore. No awkward 'hello's muttered in the dark of night. I just want to pretend like he's laying here next to me. Like he's just laying here, waiting for me to fill the silence with some stupid idea. 

I hear him thinking about it way too much for such a late time at night, rolling it around in his head. "I hope not" He finally says. "That'd be scary. 'Cause like, isn't there whole pointy beak thing their mouth? Seeing a million razor sharp teeth on that would haunt my nightmares" I try to imagine this cute little animal but when it opens it's mouth it's like the spawn of Satan or something.

I smile, because that's the perfect thing to say. He always knows the perfect thing to say. He is perfect, in my eyes at least, and I think that's all that really matters. "Are all the guys asleep on your bus?"

"Yeah" he says softly. "most of 'em went to bed when Gerard started his rant about small children's birthday parties and how if they have a cat, there shouldn't be balloons anywhere near the premises"

"Same here" I chuckle "well the fact that  they are all in bed, not the point that they went to bed because of cats at children's parties"

Mikey chuckles to that too. "Yeah, no one on your bus can quite match Gerard's maddening ideas" I am almost horrified at the thought of having someone like Gerard on the bus. It is strictly my job to be the immature man child. Gerard isn't exactly that, but he'd take attention away from me, and that's a no. Being on the My Chem. bus would probably suck, with Gerard being... well, Gerard, and Frank being the hyper one. I feel as if Mikey's attention would be divided and that's just not okay.

"We should meet" I say randomly, I can't sleep and Mikey being around makes everything a little more bearable. I love hearing him tell me stories about his childhood, or stories of crazed fans. Sometimes, I just like him _being_ here, like, just being able to hear his small breaths and feel his chest rise and fall.

"It's three in the morning" He tells me, like that really matters. Time is just a silly concept when summer, little to no responsibilities and coffee meet. "You'll see me in five hours"

"That's five hours too long" I whine and roll over to my side so that the phone is pressed between my ear and the pillow. "Tell your driver to stop at the next rest stop, then I'll come over"

"So Gerard can open up my curtain to two hyper boys instead of one?" he asks, but he doesn't sound against the idea too much either. 

"Exactly. It's the birthday present he never wanted"

Mikey hesitates like he's going to say no. I pray to god he doesn't say no, because I'm restless and bored over here. I just want to run my hand down his spine until we both fall asleep to the soothing action. "Okay" He finally says, and I mentally high five myself and cheer. 

 


	7. Fourth Of July

Today is alway the best day out of all of the Warped Tour days. One full day where emos get drunk, dangerously shoot off fireworks, barbecue and celebrate our independence. Well, we do that every day really, but today is slightly more important because it's the Fourth Of July. An all American holiday to which all hell breaks loose and a party ensues.

We were parked in some city that I don't care to remember, but Bob has a house around here. So that's where we end up around noon. It's a fairly decent home, a small little condo with a small backyard. Though, we still found enough space to house the entire Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance band and crew. We're used to small spaces though, it's not like we have a need for a huge house in this line of work, nor would we have the money for it. One day maybe. But right now, it's flats and condos. A lot of sharing too, I share this little flat in L.A. with one of my good friends. Mikey said that him and Frank usually stay together, in this little flat that doesn't have proper heating so he has to have millions of blankets on hand. I smile at that thought, almost like I want to have a domestic little life with the nerd. Like I can imagine coming home to Mikey cooking something on the stove top and kiss him lightly, just before the dogs come barrelling in to say hello. Like I can imagine fighting over what colour paint we want the living room to be or what type of sheets we want to get.

Bob declares himself master griller and begins to cook the first of at least twenty packages of hamburgers and hot dogs, Ray loiters around him with a beer in hand, talking to Andy (who supplied Bob with a special vegan burger to cook up) and some crew members. Joe and Patrick were laughing along to whatever a group of roadies said. Gerard and Frank we're, well, being Gerard and Frank. They were fucking around, messing with people and poking fun at things. I, however, steal Mikey's time by sitting on a picnic blanket with him. One hand props up my body and the other holds the liquor, the same way as Mikey is sitting right now. I wish I could take a picture of this moment, of this feeling, just to keep forever.

We giggle about a My Chem. roadie that's totally eye fucking Joe, and Joe totally having his eyes on a different member, a My Chem. technician I think. I'm kinda glad they're both on the My Chem. side because I could imagine one of those girls being insane enough to drop a roof down on us because of Joe's rejection. Mikey tells me about the time that he and Gerard shot fireworks off the deck and nearly burnt his house down. I counter his story with the time I nearly shot my dick off with fireworks because I was trying to light them whilst wearing a speedo. I think I won that round.

But, of course, Gerard flops his body down across Mikey and Frank sits down cross legged next to me, rolling his eyes at the Way brother's relationship. I come to the conclusion that Gerard is okay with us being friends, though, I would not enjoy to see what he'd say if he thought we were anything more. I'm pretty sure it'd end in castration and my head being served up on a silver platter. Even though Mikey and I aren't necessarily boyfriends, but we are lovers, and I'll keep it at that. It's perfect, just what I need, it's not over complicated and stressful, it's fun and playful. I enjoy just being with him far too much to put a label on it.

"I need to find myself something inflatable and fun, for the pool" Gerard announces, with sort of a pout, assuming there is no inflatable 'fun things' for the pool. I imagine Gerard only wants an air blown toy just to ride it suggestively in the water. I nearly feel bad for Mrs. Way, seeing as she had raised two total power puffs. Then again, they are scary looking little cream puffs on stage with all their stage makeup. Considering that I am involved with one of them makes me a cream puff too so I suppose I shouldn't be casting stones.

"You could just ask Bob where he keeps his shit" Frank says with a sigh, probably meaning he's said this to Gerard more than once, yet he still feels the need to whine to his younger brother about it rather than actually take steps to find the pool toy (leaving Mikey alone with me is always preferred in my book). Mikey just leans back on his hands, with a straight expression, probably wishing his brother would go away just as much as I do. Mikey's a different person with everyone, and it's almost scary. With me, he's super melted and open for conversation, with his bandmates, they communicate with glances and probably telepathy (it's a whole other world over at the MCR bus), with fans he's quiet and kind. I think it all depends on the person he's with. Nevertheless, it makes me happy I see a side of him that no one else ever gets to see. It's like a treasure that's all mine.... a pirate's _booty_.

"I _could_ " Gerard says. I'm trying my hardest not to laugh over ' _pirate booty_ ' because that's what treasure is called and Mikey is my treasure and his ass is quite fine. "But that'd mean leaving my baby brother who oh so adores my company" Mikey shoots him an unreadable glance, I have given up a long time ago trying to understand the odd communication of those two.

"I would oh so love to get shitfaced" Mikey says, pushing himself away from us. I don't want to stay here with Gerard, but I also don't want to follow Mikey like a puppy, which would make Gerard suspicious. Either way, I'm at a loss, so I stay put, due to overwhelming laziness and the knowledge that Mikey will come back with an armful of beers for us, so we can be lazy with alcohol together. But until then, I'm stuck with Gerard with his unsettling glare and even worse questions.

"So... have you heard of castration?" Gerard said so casually, I would've thought he asked how the weather was supposed to be like tomorrow. Frank gives a warning look at him followed by a 'Gee...' but he keeps going. "'cause that's what I'm gonna do to you if you keep looking at him with puppy dog eyes" his stare is scalding hot, a far comparison from his calm words, this mixture fucked with my insides and I was sure I may explode, or melt for that matter. Before I can defend myself, he's speaking again. "Do. Not. Fuck. With. Mikey" he punctuates clearly "if you break his heart, I break your neck" I look at Frank for help, to either calm Gerard or reassure me, but he keeps it neutral. Which, is probably safest for him anyways. He's the closest thing Mikey has to a best friend, yet there is an odd connection between him and Gerard. Either way, he's at some kind of a loss.

Mikey wobbles back, with cups and bottles balanced carefully in his arms. I'm surprised he was able to sit down, without spilling them all. Gerard engages us in conversation about the newest comic book. When I say 'us' I mean he really only talked to Mikey and Frank and I were just kind of there. I don't mind too much, even though I'm not spending quality alone time with Mikey, I'm still enjoying watching him listen to Gerard. Fuck, he actually _listens_ too, not the fake 'in and out of attention' shit, but actually understanding every word. My heart swells watching him in such form. Eventually, Gerard gets bored and pulls Frank along to go swimming, and Mikey and I stay hidden under the tree. At least, until dark. When I get Mikey drunk enough, I pull him to dance with me.

It's already nighttime, that weird time when it's the sun is on the horizon but it still lights up the sky slightly. It's still light enough to hear (painfully sober) Gerard whine about not being able to blow stuff up yet. Either way, I'm going to relish in the fact that everyone is too plastered to care about Mikey and I, and it's still light out to be able to see the small smile on Mikey's face when I hold his hips. As we get closer to the centre of the group of people, Mikey's back ended up against my chest and we were both facing towards the speakers that were blasting Rancid. It's all a euphoric feeling, being here, joy is bubbling through every inch of my body like it's meant to be there. This, being something I never would have thought was possible for such a wreck like me. For the first time, I think ' _wow, I'm actually kind of glad I didn't die a few months back_ '. That's the best feeling anyone could have.

I wrap my tattooed arm around his waist and every little jostle of the mass of people brought us closer. I could feel every vibration from the music, but mostly every time Mikey bumped into me. I originally thought I'd care more about another person's dick against my leg or vice versa, but as days go by with Mikey, I realise that I don't actually mind, hell, it's kind of a turn on. Mikey mumbles out something, that gets lost in the sea of music. I just lick his neck and push my hips farther into his ass.

"Dirty, Pete" Mikey halfway scolds. Every time the people pod shifted this way or that, he took it as an excuse to push and grind against me. I wonder how _I'm_ the dirty one, seeing as he's being the dirtiest by wildly grinding against me. The bass was thudding, adding to the pleasurable vibrations running through my body, not to mention the fact that Mikey wasn't helping prevent this either. I let a moan slip out, low and deep into his ear, as my hands slide under his shirt to his stomach. I feel his skin beneath me, all smooth and chlorine kissed.

"Enjoying yourself?" he smirks, pushing against me harder. I imagine if he were sober, he wouldn't be this confident, and if I were sober, I wouldn't be this okay with the situation. But right now, all I want is this throb in my dick to go away. The liquor in my bloodstream doesn't do much else either, besides direct all the blood south, it's really just fucking with my head. I let my head sink to his shoulder and groan, surrendering to him fully. I am totally open to bend to his will, maybe it's me thinking with my other head, but I couldn't care less.

"I fucking love you so much" I moan into his ear. All I want to do was get out of here, pulling Mikey behind me. Which, is proven to be more difficult than it looks when the crowd is packed so tightly and Mikey being handsie in his drunken state. He's groping me and sucking on my neck in all the right places and the tingling pleasure running through my veins makes my feet go all wonky and makes it hard to walk. Eventually, we tumbled from the crowd, heading towards the edge of the woods where we had laid before. He is kissing me like he's in a drought and I'm the holy water he's been without, and every doubt I had about Mikey having a dick, is thrown out the window. I'm letting myself get stuck in his head, over and over again. Mikey felt kind of like a bad habit, or a replacement for them, like he collected all my bad habits and replaced them with himself. I kissed him harder, in appreciation, hard enough to stain his teeth red, maybe, it could've also been the vodka cranberries.

We stumble and fall down to the grass beneath us and I'm laying on top of him, lips not leaving his, still grinding with the same force of before, maybe more now that I have more leverage. My hands snake down his sides and to his jeans, beginning the process of unbuttoning. "Wait...wait" He gasps out. But I don't want to wait, I ache all over, I ache for him. "I don't want to forget this, I don't want to forget you"

I swoop down to kiss him again. He always knows what to say, even when there are no need for words. "You won't forget me, I'm like the opposite of amnesia." I smirk, because even with a drunken mind I can still come up with great pick up lines. He bites my neck, like a snake, putting his venom in me, and I take that as an okay to go, a gesture of consent. I begin to unbutton his pants and slide them down around his thighs, him letting out a sexy grunt once one of my hands is on his cock and the other is tugging at his hair. In turn, he maneuvers his hands to push my pants down a mirror what I'm doing to him but with his free hand on my lower back. I groan louder though, his hands feel like mine, rough and calloused, but better. It's almost like when I'm laying in my bunk, rubbing one out. But his long fingers shape me so perfectly and he has a combination of squeezing and twisting that makes me feel like I'm going mad. Now, I regret not doing this sooner. Because _fuck_...yes.

I lick a stripe up his neck just before the well known feeling sparks in my lower belly. It's like sharp sparkles, hell, like fireworks, since I'm not above being cliché. The way his hand is moving makes me feel like I'm coming undone, like he's dividing me down to the smallest I can be. I bury my head in his shoulder and I'm going off too soon, moaning and breathing heavy. My arms feel like noodles but I still have to hold myself above Mikey and finish jacking him off. In the process of me coming, my hand stopped moving on his dick and I realise it's probably taking a lot of control not to dry hump my leg.

"C'mon Mikes" I say, my hand starting to move again as fast as my liquified, post orgasm arms will let me. I drag my thumb over his tip to spread out the precum so my hand moves more fluidly. It's much like jerking off, I suppose, but a lot more disjointed and with awkward angles, but he's arching into anyways "c'mon... _come on_..." I watch his eyes flutter closed and he's coming with thrust and a choked gasp, his face slightly contorted. I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding as he sinks back down onto the ground, and wiped the stickiness off my hand into the grass beside us. I roll to Mikey's side, shoulder to shoulder, and mumble a little ' _fuck_ ', which Mikey nods in agreement, still breathing heavy but trying to slow it down. I feel all rung out and exhausted, like I could fall asleep right here. I probably will.

The air was thick around us, but comfortable. It smelt like the stench of summer sex and a little bit of Mikey's C.K. Eternity cologne, and I decide that it's the best smell in the world. I let my mind wonder back to last month, when I first met Mikey. It's probably the best thing that ever happened to me. He pulled me through the June gloom, and I'm ever so thankful. Fireworks overhead pull me from my reminiscence, and I intwine my fingers with Mikey's, watching the colourful explosions up in the sky.

\-----------

I watch Mikey climb up the bus, laughing at something Frank says. I can't help but be a little jealous. Just a little. I know I shouldn't, but Mikey is _mine_. Mikey's smile is mine. I watch him out my bus window until he disappears into his own bunk area, and I wish I was disappearing back there with him. Everyone's hungover from last night, all except the sober team, who managed to keep fireworks out of drunken hands, saving everyone's lives. I'm hungover, but waking up next to Mikey this morning was still pretty beautiful. So I suppose he helped cure my hangover just a little bit.

"How was your night?" Patrick looks up from his laptop, saying it like he knows all my dirty secrets. He knows most of my secrets, but there's one that's nagging at my belly. The one with the words ' _I fucking_ love _you so much_ ' which were spoken to my non-boyfriend, Mikey Way. That's a bit of a problem, I could simply chalk it up to being incredibly drunk and horny, and if Mikey remembers I pray he does that too, but deep down I know something's off. A heart string is being plucked.

"Fine" I say shortly. I can't confess to Patrick that I love my not-really-kinda-sorta-lover-boyfriend. That's a cause for mass hysteria and probably bunk arrest, much like house arrest, but in a bunk. Which, bunk arrest wouldn't be so bad if Mikey were there, but since he is the one involving the bunk arrest, I doubt Patrick would allow it. "Lots of colours and sounds. Fun night."

"Oh I bet you had fun" he says with a tone that sounds like I'm going to be in lots of trouble. "You know, grinding on Mikey, then sneaking off into the darkness of the woods." I was right, this is not good, this is no good at all.

I roll my eyes, hopefully convincingly. "We were just joking around, we didn't do anything, we just passed out under the trees counting the stars" I totally didn't tell him I loved him again. No way.

"Oh? So you and Mikey aren't a thing then?" Patrick frowns slightly, like he's trying to look upset. But I can see right through him, and he definitely is happy and maybe even evilly plotting. "That's perfect! We're going to a party tonight, and we're gonna get you a hook up. I think you need a little bit of fun"

"I don't think I'm ready yet..." I bite my lip because this certainly isn't going to end my way. At best, I wake up with just a hangover.... worst would probably involve another person in bed with me. Most likely of the female kind, since Mikey is my only exception.

"Aw c'mon" Joe claps me on shoulder roughly, his strength I had gotten used to over the years. "At least come drinking"

There was no way out of it. Once we land in Pittsburgh, I'm going to end up making mistakes. To rationalise, it's not like Mikey and I are _exclusive_. We're not even _boyfriends_. I can do whatever I want. Even if I did sleep with someone, it wouldn't matter because Mikey and I are only best friends, with benefits, lovers, whatever. No loyalty needed.

Once in a parking lot in the heart of Pittsburgh, Warped Tour kicked up a kick ass party. Liquor included, of course.

\---------------------

I wake up to a blonde clump of hair and definitely not Mikey's. Shit.

I had brought her back, messily kissing her with little passion. Mikey tastes like her, only sweeter. Mikey's coffee and cigarettes may taste bitter, but to me, it's the sweetest taste, he's exceptionally sweet when he's drunk off vodka cranberries, of some fruity variation of it. It wasn't the best sex, messy, drunken and lacking passion, the kind of passion I had with Mikey. Nevertheless, it's now a memory, a not so great memory, a memory I'd like to forget, but a memory nonetheless. It was just one night, just one more time. I didn't want it, not really. I wanted Mikey, but this girl wrapped me around her finger, making me forget Mikey. I can't believe I _forgot_ him.

I kicked the girl off the bus very quickly, feeling more guilty that I slept with her instead of Mikey. I don't know why, I know I have no obligation to him, but I still feel like I cheated on him. Like we were exclusive and I fucked up. Maybe we were, and I did. Mikey's good at understanding things without words. Maybe he knew I felt as if we were exclusive, deep down, and he refrained from sleeping with others. He always knows.

I suppose the best thing to do is talk to him. I pull on some pants and a red 'I (heart) revenge" tee shirt and jump off the bus. It's pretty late into the afternoon already, Mikey's at sound check. I take a short jog over to the stage to see that Mikey was just getting off of check. He wasn't the first to see me though, he was ducking down, consumed with trying to fix the thin bass string. Frank actually saw me first.

"You shouldn't be here" Frank says with a low whisper. "you need to go"

"I was just going to go say hi to Mikey..." I look over his shoulder towards the boy whose face is wrinkled up and dripping with sweat whilst he works on his bass, his techie standing behind him in case he needs anything.

Frank breathes out in a sigh. "Yeah. I wouldn't, if I were you. He's upset." Frank mumbles. I bite on my fingernails, seriously hoping that my actions last night aren't causing his distress. "Uhm, I don't know what's going on between you two, and I don't want to know for Gerard's sake, but....well... I'm assuming you know what's up with him. I don't know full details." he makes it clear he knows the bare minimum. I can't imagine how much Mikey had told Frank, though I trust him, hopefully I can trust him enough not to get Gerard involved either.

I cut my losses, deciding that if I'm going to fix things, I need a battle plan, I can't just go in and talk to him with no real direction. It will end in unicorn analogies and frustrated looks from both ends.

I play my heart out on the bass. Taking all my frustration, anger at myself, self-pity, out on the strings. Whirling around stage and gathering energy from the screams of fans. Every few seconds I check the wings to see if Mikey ever shows up- he doesn't. I texted him a few times, he said that he's spending time with Gerard. I want to think that's because Gerard forced him and not because he's angry with me and has no better excuse.

I can't sleep that night either. We're on the road, driving, again, going to whichever place is next. I don't really care. I lay in bed, imagining the bus rolling through silent cities between the two white highway lines. Everything is morbidly silent on the bus. I keep my ear pressed to the pillow, listening to the roar of the road beneath me, until the ringing in my ears gets too violent and I have to get up and focus on something else.

Mikey's not answering my calls or texts, so that's a loss. I walk into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and looking at myself in the mirror. I look like a wreck. Pity and guilt weighing down my skin, forming dark circles under my eyes and making my skin sag.

I take a deep breath and make eye contact with myself. My therapist told me that if I'm ever anxious about speaking to someone, or a group of people, I should practice what I'm going to say in the mirror. I feel ridiculous, talking to myself...my reflection. But I have a solid footing down and feel as if I can talk my way out of anything.

I take another deep breath, running over what I'm going to say to Mikey. Then, I feign sleep until we've parked safely in the next parking lot of the next venue


	8. Uma Thurman

"Hey Mikes" I smile a bit at him, but really just feel like I kicked a puppy. He's looking up at me with soft eyes, seeing through every part of me, breaking me down to who I really am inside. "Im...I'm sorry..." that couldn't have been said worse. I'm a fucking idiot. I was trying to let the good times roll, have perfect words to make things right, but clearly I'm incapable. Normally I'm so good with English, but with Mikey, I feel like I'm just learning how to speak sometimes.

Mikey shrugs, a sharp jolt at his shoulders. He takes his cigarette between two fingers and pulls it out of his mouth, grey smoke chasing after it. "Don't be. I mean I know we're not really... _exclusive_... but I don't need it rubbed in my face either"

I wince a little like his words caused actual pain, well they kinda did. I began to learn the little tells on Mikey's face and he's a little pissed and mostly upset. "I know... I know we're not really, ya know, but I still feel shitty about it" as I should feel, from what I remember Mikey was at that party. I totally disregarded the best part of my life right now out of a drunken haze.

"Yeah well..." he looks down and kicks the gravel at his feet. I watch his lips, it seems as if there's words there that want to slide out but can't. His fingers delicately hold the white stick of nicotine and he just flicks it onto the ground, done with it before it was all the way burnt out.

I tilt his chin up in a cliché way, just to look at him. The setting afternoon sun makes his cheeks glow, his lips are parted and chapped, his eyes have a glint of sadness. It could've been all the cough medicine I've taken this morning, but I think I'm falling in love again. Which means I'm going to be the best and worst thing that's ever happened to Mikeyway. It's an addicting feeling though. The way I feel when I think of him is like a drug, and I'm so fucking hooked on it.

A knot forms in my stomach and I begin to feel panicked. Like I need to run away, but I need Mikey by my side. "Let's run away together" I suggest. No real context. No detailed ideas. I just want to run away with him. Leave the world behind and stay in this time, this feeling, forever. I actually consider it too, just never coming back. Patrick would be worried, the guys would be pissed, but they can find another bassist for Fall Out Boy. But in my situation, there is only one bassist in the entire world that I need.

Mikey smiles a bit at the corners of his lips. "Yeah. Let's." he gets it. _He just fucking gets it_ and I feel an overwhelming feeling of joy because of it. He gives me that feeling that he created the sun out in a tool shed and hung it up just for me. I hope everyone can feel this way some day, because I actually feel like I have a place in the world. Like I'm not a ticking time bomb watching the sky fall to pieces.

It didn't take long to find Dirty, sitting in a camp chair with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and bribe him with easy summer one night stands to get his car."Just don't make a mess, Wentz." Dirty says in his deep, burly voice, putting down his liquor and he tosses the keys into my hand.

"Dawh, thanks buddy ol' pal" I try to go in for a hug but he pushes his hand out to stop me. I just smile and turn to Mikey. "Shotgun!" I call tossing the keys to him. He's stunned for a moment but catches the keys and heads to the front seat.

"Hang on" I wait for him to pause from starting the car to look at me. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." With that, I'm jumping out of the car and going on a full out sprint back to my bus. Why I thought sprinting, or any running for that matter, was a good idea is beyond me. By the time I get to the bus, my lungs are on fire and I have to brace against the hot metal of the bus' outer core to catch my breath. Mikey. Okay I had a mission. I punch in my bus code and hop up the stairs, no one's home so I don't need to explain my actions thankfully. I grab a six pack of coke and jog, (slowly in order to not shake the carbonated drinks), back to the car. "Now," I say panting a little as I slide back into the car "I may not know much about classic cars, but I got classic Coke and that's pretty good"

Mikey smiles, with a little laugh, and starts the car. I crack open a Coke for him and push it into the hand not occupied by the wheel, watching him sip the drink. I do the same, opening my own hissing can and taking a nice, long drink. I should never run again. That was a horrible idea. When Mikey rolls down his window, I roll down mine, leaning back to look up at the purple skies as the wind gushes around me. With Mikey, I'm starting to take chances instead of pills. That's probably what compelled me to spurt out what I said next.

"I love you, Mikeyway" I declare over the wind whooshing through the car, carrying the distant hums of whatever is on the radio at the moment. All of a sudden, I felt free, like I had been buried underground and now that I confessed I can finally breathe again. I look at him, to see any kind of reaction. He's just keeping his eyes on the road with his solid, neutral, face. "I mean, like, I love you in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital" I begin to ramble, possibly making the situation worse. "You know, like how there's always one foot in the bedroom and one foot out the door." I should write this down, I can certainly write it better than I ever felt it. I'm just making a mess of everything at the moment. I have to remember when to shut up, gag me maybe. Wait, no, that sounds kinky and dirty. I don't even know anymore.

Anyways, I'm studying Mikey's face. He takes his eyes off the road to look at me, letting me see the understanding in his eyes. "I know, Pete" He sighs a little. _He just gets it_. That's why I'm so into him. He's not freaked out or angry with my new declaration of love, he just goes with it. Like always. Because he knows that I need him to. He never questions me, never asks me if I'm _sure_ I'm making the right decision. He trusts me. I trust him.

The radio begins to play "Oops I Did It Again" by Britney Spears and we both look at each other with blank faces. Because no, we are the emos of 2005, we should not know pop songs like this, let alone sing along to it. But alas, when the chorus comes we both belt out at the top of our lungs "Ooops I did it again...I played with your heart.." We were singing and dancing along so passionately that by the time the song was over I'm in tears from laughing so hard.

"Never speak of this, ever" Mikey says, trying to sound serious but his voice still wavers from laughing so hard.

"Agreed" I giggle wiping a joyful tear from underneath my eye.

I'm feeling high off of happiness when we pull into an empty parking lot of a diner that closed a long time ago. There's a few lampposts dimly lighting up the lot, and it seems perfect. "C'mon" I smile, turning up the radio loud enough so we can hear it from outside the car. When we're both out of the car I'm instructing him to take off his shoes and socks."Because it's more fun to dance that way" I explain when he gives me a skeptical look and asks why.

"I don't dance" he shakes his head, standing still with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. God, why must this boy be so difficult sometimes? I blame Gerard. I don't know how or why yet, but I'm certain Gerard has something to do with Mikey's dancing aversion combined with his stubbornness.

"Please?" I beg, giving him my best puppy dog eyes, because I don't play fair. He gives in after a few moments pass and sighs, leaning over to slip out of his shoes and socks like I have. The song changes to an upbeat Rancid song called Root Radicals, and I take Mikey's hands, beginning to let loose and get Mikey to stop being so stiff. I'm swaying around, spinning, making his arms wiggle and he's just watching me like I'm insane.

"All the punk rockers, and the moon stompers, are out on the corners where, they sparing for change" I begin to sing between giggles, finally getting Mikey to smile slightly and move along to the beat. For once, we're just letting go, forgetting our stresses. I think we both really needed this, it couldn't have just been me. He's keeping a steady beat with his bare feet that are bound to be blistered by now, and I'm looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky just for me. No matter how hard I try, I can't get this kid out of my head. Every love song that I have ever heard, every song that I had ever loved, every song that I played over and over again until I couldn't forget the lyrics, they are all Mikey. Mikey. I don't know how, but every song is just so Mikey, I'm sure of it.

A slower beat plays next and I hang my arms over his shoulders as he places his hands on my hips. We kind of just sway back and forth to the beat of "All I Have Left Is You" by The Offspring. I begin to realise that you only really hear the words to a song when you're so in love with someone. The radio sung out "And we're holding on when, There's nothing left to hold onto, So don't tell me when it's gone, Cause' all I have left is you" and I have to cling onto his shirt because I can't get enough of him. Just off the key of reason, when I looked up at him in the lamp light overhead, I felt my body explode with love and joy. But I could've just been how he looks in the light.

"I love you" I mumble loud enough for him to hear, nuzzling my head into his chest, taking in the smell of nicotine and the dirt of warped tour. "I promise I will forever." I say a bit quieter, I don't know if I want him to hear me or not, but I have a fifty-fifty chance. "'Til tonight do us part" I vow, kind of like a teenager. It's our teenage love in the middle of the parking lot.

Eventually, we are pulled from our little happiness cave and we have to go back to Warped. I drive back home, at sometime way past midnight, and lace my fingers between his as he sleeps in the passenger seat. I watch his chest rise and fall, out of the corner of my eye, as little gasps of air pass his parted lips. I wonder what he dreams about in that head of his. Probably fighting dragons or playing D&D or something else that I'd find nerdy but simply adorable. One day, I'll look back at this disaster and get nostalgic, but, for now, I squeeze the boy's hand and focus on getting us back safely.

\------------------------

My therapist says to enjoy the little things in life. So when the rest of the band vacates the bus in search of churros and apple sauce, I rejoice in the solitude. I plug in my mp3 player into the speakers and press play on my 'Summer Of Like' playlist. I can't help but smile to myself, remembering the previous night, dancing with Mikey. I admit, it's stupid to get into songs so heavily, but I do it anyways. I slide my hand down to my stomach, stopping at the waist band, teasing the idea. The song playing is like a song I wanna make, a song that people will want to have sex to. So I slide my hand lower, palming myself through my thin basketball shorts, letting out a long, breathy moan.

"Enjoying yourself?" A voice cuts through the music and I look up to see Mikey leaning against the wall, smirking. He clearly came into the bus unannounced, and now I'm regretting giving him my bus code, though I have his too so there will be some serious revenge going on. I could be embarassed, turn bright red and beg to pretend it didn't happen, but I'm not that kind of guy.

"Yeah, but it's better now that you're here" I say, gliding towards him, soaking up the memory of the dark lusty look in his eyes. Surprisingly, he was already hard when I pressed myself against him to kiss him roughly, which brings the question of 'how long was he standing there watching me dance and begin the jerk off process?'. I didn't say that though, I'm not stupid, I'm turned on far too much to ruin it by embarrassing Mikey, even if it should be me who is embarrassed.

I let my mouth wander down to his neck, following his scent as I kiss around to find the right spots. He pulls my head back to his mouth, slipping moans into my mouth and following my smiles. He tugs at the hem of my shirt before pulling it over my head completely and tossing it aside. I just barely get to return the favour before he's pushing me against the wall and sucking on my neck. The temperature on the bus must've gone up a few degrees, because I'm feeling like a mixture of hot and wet, slick with sweat.

He steps back for a moment, breathing heavy, like if he kept going he'd rip me to bits. I take a moment to rake up and down his body, taking in every aspect of him. His qualities are hot, but his flaws are hotter, they align perfectly with the mood I'm in. I think that's what love is, loving someone's flaws, because everyone has flaws, but it's loving them that's the strong part. His dark eyes cut right into my bones, leaving nothing behind, and I nearly collapse when he asks "Can I blow you?"

I just barely nod my head yes before he's on his knees and pulling my shorts down with him. He doesn't take his eyes off of me, the entire time he's just looking up at me with innocent little eyes and parted lips. He licks up, still not breaking eye contact, and I have to look away, tipping my head back to hit the wall, as I let out a low moan. Then, he's wrapping his lips around my skin and I have to brace myself against the wall, dragging my nails against the tiles. Thankfully, he takes hold of my hips in both of his hands, and pushes me against the wall to keep me upright.

"God...fuck... 's good Mikes..." words are stumbling out of my mouth. When he caves his cheeks in, I nearly lose it. I tangle a hand in his hair and try not to tug, but when he swirls his tongue around the head, I jerk, tugging at his hair. Mikey groans around my dick and it feels like heaven. Tugging is good, the more I tug, the more he groans and creates those vibrations that drive me mad. I gain enough strength to look down at him. He's still looking up at me, with wide brown eyes and swollen lips. It's enough to release the heat stored in my belly "Mikey... 'm gonna..." I moan out, it wasn't a fair warning, I admit. He's gonna be pissed that I'm coming in his mouth but I don't care right now. I'm coming so hard down his throat that my eyes roll back in my head. Surprisingly, Mikey swallows it, seeing me through to the end.

"Fuck... Mikey..you..ugh..." I try to get my arms to work. He stands up, pulling my head in close, creating an intense volume of truth. I lean forward, licking into his mouth, not even caring that I can taste myself. _To be that good he has had to do that before_. I decided to leave that thought alone for now, seeing that it's not the best time to ask Mikey about his previous sex life when Mikey's so turned on and foggy.

I manage to push him down to the couch, straddling his hips and beginning to grind down as I suck on the spot right below his collarbone. "Pete..." his voice is all tight and low. God, I've never wanted to...do anything with a dude, especially below the waist, but now... fuck I want to do the same for him. The only problem is, I have no clue how to do it. I've never sucked a dick before, and I have a reputation of being great at sex that I cannot lose because of a disjointed blowjob. Mikey wines a little at the bottom of his throat and bucks up into my hips. Then I remember, _it's Mikey fucking Way_ , the kid who just gets me.

"I wanna...I'm going to..." I slide down onto my knees between his legs. "I'm gonna try" I look up to Mikey whose eyes are full of surprise, and I don't blame him. The strictly straight below the waist guy is now being so gay that it's undeniable. I slide Mikey's jeans down and get a face full of dick. Deep breath. Okay. I can do this.

"Pete" Mikey whines, probably feeling my hot breath on his sensitive, aroused skin. "Pete... you don't...shit...you don't have to..." he's got his eyes squeezed shut like he's using every muscle not to buck up into my face.

"I want to" I say sternly. But I still feel a bit queasy over the ordeal. _I want to do it. I really want to do it_. It can't be _that_ hard. I just have to do what I like done to me, remember what Mikey did. Try not to choke, or bite his dick off. Yikes, that would not be good, I would not like to have to explain to his brother that Mikey's dick fell off whilst we were doing extra curricular activities (that he would disapprove of without a doubt). That is one conversation I can go my entire life without even imagining. But, lets say it does happen, I'm totally getting my balls cut off and I'm to young to be infertile, how else will I repopulate the Earth _when_ the zombie apocalypse happens? Okay, well, if we're being honest, I'm probably going to die right away, but if I don't die, I'm going to need my balls to repopulate the Earth.

"It's fine" Mikey says, his hand creeping down to his dick, but I quickly slap his hand away. He whines, and I can't blame him. He's trying really hard right now, I know it. I also know he wouldn't do this for anyone. If it were anyone else he would've kicked them to the curb by now, so I should feel lucky. I get a little leeway though considering this is my first time with a dick this close to my face for longer than a few seconds in a sexual way. I've had Gabe's junk in my face before, but I never had the pressure to suck it, it's a little bit more intimidating now.

"I can do it" I assure myself more than him, I think.

"God, fuck, Pete, it's fine you don't owe me.... _oh_..." He gets cut off when I wrap my lips around him. It tastes different, salty from sweat maybe, and something undefinable, like sex. That's all it is, is sex. So I just follow Mikey's footsteps, bobbing my head, using my tongue. When I get a good enough rhythm down, I pull his hands up from clawing at the couch and into my hair. He lets out a heavy breath and holds onto my hair like a lifeline. His small whimpers and gasps build up enough self-esteem in me to look up at him, and dear god, if I hadn't just came as hard as I did, I'd probably be hard again. His lips are parted to let little sighs slip through and his eyes are glistening in foggy pleasure.

Once we make eye contact he moans my name deep and throaty and throws his head back. "Kay...Pete..I'm gonna...." I'm not going to pull off, I'm Pete Wentz. I have a reputation to uphold. "Pete..." he chokes out tugging my hair back a bit as a signal I should pull off, but I still don't. I hold on tighter, probably leaving bruises on his thighs like my fingertips. His dick spasms in my mouth and there's a sickly salty liquid weighing down in my mouth as Mikey comes with a choked out gasp. Big mistake. Big big mistake. I cough, choking on his jizz, the majority of it falling out of my mouth and down my chin.

I look up to see Mikey glancing down at me with lidded eyes and giggling lightly. "Man fuck you Mikeyway!" I frown, trying to wipe the jizz off my body. My poor bandmates, having to sit on a jizz couch without even knowing it. Mikey just smiles and uses his thumb to wipe off the remainder of himself on my chin, then he does the unbelievable. He puts his thumb in his mouth, ridding the finger of the stickiness. "Fuck," I groan pulling up my shorts, but still hypnotized by Mikey's actions. "You're dirty"

"Did I do good?" I ask softly, actually wanting a real answer. Feedback. So...if there's a next time... I can rock his world like he did mine.

"'s good, Pete" Mikey says smoothing my hair down. I lean into his touch, liking it a little too much. But having him praise me like that feels awesome, like, I love it. I want him to tell me how good I am all the time, it's my new favourite. "So good..." he repeats.

Mikey giggles, standing up and swaying a little, still high off his orgasm, and pulls up his jeans. "C'mon, lets go lay down." he says, pulling me back to my bunk, I hit pause on the mp3 just before ducking into the bunk to cuddle with the taller boy. I'm gonna write songs about him, I decide, I'm alright in bed, but better with a pen. I can immortalise our relationship forever.

I push into Mikey's chest, closing my eyes and just feeling him draw circles on my back. This is how I'd like to wake up one day. Like, the day before, _I'd say with such passion "May nothing but death do us part", before kissing the groom, my husband, my Mikey. Then we'd run off to somewhere warm with a beach for our honeymoon. We would hang out on the beach, drinking fruity drinks with little umbrellas and go into the waves, splashing each other. It would be him and I, in a honeymoon, and I'd wake up next to him, holding onto me like I am his anchor to this Earth, and everything would just fall into place_.

But a sickening feeling sets into my stomach. I'm not good at commitment. I can't commit to anything, whether it be heart or hospital. I can't even go commit to death. Why the hell would I be able to commit my life to another human being? I start to panic, and I'm sure Mikey will be able to tell soon. I'm trying to look into the future but my eyesight is going bad, the crystal ball is always foggy. The only time it's not foggy is when you look back at your one night stands. I can see all the happy times with Mikey, but I can't see the future. I need to see the future.

"Shhhh...." Mikey coos, still rubbing gentle circles on my back. "You're okay. I'm here" I'm still freaking out though. I can't breathe. The future has it's hands wrapped tightly around my throat and it's squeezing. Every time a thought about Mikey crosses my mind, my breathing speeds up. He's my anchor, my love, I can't leave him after warped tour, but I can't commit to him either! I want everything I can't have. I want the most impossible thing from him. I don't even know what I want. I want some kind of middle ground. I want to capture him and lock him away in my basement and keep him as mine so no one else can have his awesomeness. I want to feel good, and he makes me so happy.

Once I can control my breathing, I pull back a little to look up at him. "What are you thinking about?" I ask. I don't know what to say otherwise. Words will pour out of my mouth at a mile a minute, making me go back into panic mode. So if I listen to Mikey's soothing voice for long enough, I hope to calm down enough to think things through clearly and detangle my brain. He looks at me oddly, like he didn't understand the question. "You know, thoughts, insides, disasters. I'd pay a penny for your thoughts, a dollar for your insights but a fortune for your disasters" I clarify.

I watch him swallow and his face contort slightly, like he's trying to come up with the right answer. He's trying. He takes a breath, but looks away from my eyes, unable to make contact, "I'm thinking about how we're a dream." he's quiet, even for Mikey. Distant. Sad even.

"You are the dreamer and we are the dream" I say, deciding that one will definitely go into a song. I can always write it better than he ever felt it, which is a sad thought maybe. But I want to keep us forever. I'm good at writing, I can understand the little things. But I've come to realise that Mikey's not so good at acknowledging feelings and running with them. That's probably for the better though, so he doesn't get hurt. Or, maybe he just isn't great and showing his feelings or thinks I'll reject him or something. I don't know, I'm selfish, so I want him to have feelings and acknowledge them, even if the fact of him not feeling strongly is better for him.

"Yeah" He says dryly, like his throat has gone dry and he can't swallow. "Like, how we're so awesome and shit, like dreams ya know? Dreams are pretty awesome, like you can fly." He pauses, and for once, I gained Mikey's sixth sense, knowing that he's not done talking so I shouldn't talk yet, I just need to let him gather his thoughts. "But... dreams end...." that's the reality I didn't want to hear. I want to avoid it forever. Or at least until the very last day.

I don't want to think about it. The End. Good or bad outcomes. I don't want any of it clouding my brain. "I love you" I mumble and just before drifting off to sleep, I hear a soft "I love you too". 

 


	9. Twin Skeletons

I'm smiling and rocking back and forth on my heels, trying to convince Gerard to let me steal Mikey for the entire day off. We're in New York City for a whole day and we don't even have to play a set. This means, if Gerard gives up his death stare, Mikey and I will spend just under twelve hours exploring the city, holding hands and chatting about the little things. I even convinced Joe to room with Ray so that Mikey could room with me. By convinced, I mean once my argument of ' _You both have rockin' fros, you gotta room together_ ' didn't work, I had to bribe Joe with weed and blackmail Ray with a dirty secret I overheard Frank telling Mikey.

"Let the kid go" Frank says, coming up to jab Gerard in the side with his elbow. Frank, I believe, is my saviour sent from some sort of heaven that helps out gay-not-really-boyfriends-bestfriends-lovers be together despite the older brother's wishes. Mikey, who is still standing behind Gerard, not moving for the sake of not pissing off his brother, therefore sending him to hunt out my death, looks over at Frank and they have some sort of unspoken communication then Mikey sticks his tongue out at him. The My Chem. guys are just so odd, they _could_ talk like normal people but no, they have to use bat signals or some shit to communicate.

Gerard frowns "But we were supposed to go to the comic book store together" he loosens his body and whines like a three year old. Mikey looks generally uninterested with going to the comic book store, though I know he's not necessarily opposed either. Some nights he stays up longer than me reading whatever comic he stole from under Gerard's mattress, and I know that if you get him talking about comics, he'll never shut up.

"You always take Mikey to the comic book shop. Seriously. Every time." Frank sighs. Gerard crosses his arms with a huff and that's when Frank realised that Gerard is the most stubborn person ever and there's no way he's going to let Mikey go. "Take him and run" Frank whispers to me, and I have to agree on this one.

\---

We wave down a yellow checkered taxi and I tell him to take us to some hipster cafe and take the scenic route, Mikey giggles. I watch him roll his window down as we begin to race through the city. He leans his head against the door like a little kid and smiles up at the world above him. I love him, my not quite boyfriend, lover, best friend, ex friend to the end. We wouldn't be good the other way around, best friends instead of lovers. He's far too addicting.

I take his hand, he smiles, and I feel like we're completely alone. Like its just him and I and the rest of the world doesn't get in our way. Too soon, we're a some hole in the wall café and I'm paying the driver before pulling Mikey along.

Mikey orders something simple, I order something complicated, parallel to our personalities. "Mikeyway" I coo at him as we sit down in the booth with our cups of coffee. I take his open hand and hold it in mine. "you're so pretty."he rolls his eyes but blushes nevertheless. Things are easy with Mikey, him and I understand each other with ease. I didn't actually imagine that I'd like him as much as I do now. 

We talk forever, in our little spot in the back, I wonder if the employees care, I don't think they get paid enough to care, actually. Alone, we are broken down on memory road together, reminiscing about our childhood. We talk about what it's like back home. I tell him about Chicago, how cold becomes bone chilling and the hot summer days wear into your skin like suntan lotion. He tells me how New Jersey is bitter and cold in the winter and in the summer they don't have air conditioning so they pretty much just sit in front of a fan all day. I tell him about how I want to go and get a house up in L.A. and start my own clothing line, maybe even build a dance club. I laugh when he says he just hopes to be in Gerard's comics one day. He is just such a simple dude and it brings my entire live to a constant swing, unlike the wild mess I'm used to. 

In a low sultry voice, I tell him about the way I think of his skin under my hands and how I all I can think of is his lips pressed close to mine. "Dork" he giggles while his cheeks heat up. 

I just smile back at him. He is the absolute example of perfection. A gift wrapped up in a bow. "Wanna be my partner in crime?" I stand up out of my chair and hold my hand out towards him. "We can go cause a bunch of trouble 'til you find what you love"

He just shrugs and takes my hand. As we're walking out he says "but I already found what I love"I have to stop and pull him into such a tight hug, because I assumed he meant me, and if he doesn't mean that he loves me, then I don't want to know what he really meant. I just want to savour this happy moment  when my stomach is fluttering and I feel like a teenager with a first love again. We pull apart when I loud ' _SQUACK_ ' from one of those stupid crows scares the ever loving shit out of me. 

We walked around the city until the sun set and the lights came on, getting chocolate from the M&M factory and window shopping. We stand in the middle of time square, he's looking up at the lights that outline the square like he's seeing the stars for the first time. I pull myself closer to him, watching the big screen, waiting to catch a glimpse of the two of us snuggled close together. 

"C'mon" Mikey leant down to bite my neck "let's go check out that hotel room". This time, it was me who giggled and agreed, letting him lead the way back to the hotel. By the time we arrive at the hotel (which had like eighty floors), I'm bouncing off the walls and practically _dragging_ Mikey to our hotel room, barely being able to unlock it with the key card because I'm vibrating from the mere drug of Mikeyway. 

Mikey, being the boy who drinks too much coffee, slips into the bathroom before I even close the door, so I just let out a long breath and flop onto the soft bed. But that's where things always go wrong, I can't be left alone with my thoughts for longer than a minute before something goes awry in the head. I realise that, _it's August first today_ , when the calendar said July, it felt like we still had time, still had a month. I have to shut my eyes to block out the thumping pain of my heart breaking. 

"Stop thinking so much" Mikey says, leaning against the wall, just watching me. Then, when I don't speak, he pushes off the wall and lays down on the bed next to me. "Just be here and in the now"

I take a deep breath in then let it all out. Mikey deserves a six page essay on just how much I love him, but I crunch some numbers and find a one liner that will get my point across and get him into the mood. "You're my everything" I tell him, not waiting to see his reaction, I just go to kiss him right away. Right now, I just want to get out of my own mind, and him out of his clothes. We strip each other bare, so there's nothing hiding us from the rest of the world, there's nothing that makes us fake, we are just stripped down to our true selves, to our skeletons. We are the same, just like twins, but also so many worlds apart it feels unreal. I let myself steal enough of him just to dull the pain, and get me through tonight without breaking  down at the impending doom ahead. For at least one more night, we are just saints swimming in our sins again. 

"Fuck, Mikey...stop" I gasp, just about to come when I at him going down on me. Mikey freezes up and I whine a little, though I did bring it on. Mikey looks up at me with innocent eyes and swollen lips, which really do contrast each other in retrospect. "Please....Mikey....will you please..." Mikey only has to look at me blankly for a moment before he understands. He gets it. He just fucking gets it. He sticks his fingers in my mouth, using my saliva as a substitute for lube for when he inserts a finger. It hurts at first, never having much of anything in my asshole before, but by the third finger I was crumbling and whimpering out his name. "God, fuck, Mikey, fuck, I promise, I'll love you forever if you just.... just more." 

He pulls his fingers out and I whimper at the loss, fucker. But then his lips are against my neck and his cock is rubbing against the now unoccupied area. "I don't wanna hurt you". 

I thrust my hips up. "Jesus Mikey, it's fine. I'll be fine, I promise. Just... _fuck_..."I was cut short when I felt Mikey sliding into me, followed by a burning sensation. _ow ow ow ow ow_. Okay I'm a dumbass. But Mikey, somehow stayed still for what probably felt like forever, to him, until I finally breathed out "Move" and Mikey did oh so well, starting with a slow rhythm but gradually thrusting faster and faster until we were both a moaning mess. 

"Pete... I... god..." Mikey moans.

"Yeah. Yeah. Me too" I gasp, and open my eyes to look up at him, watching his face as he orgasms into me, which is just enough to get me off, spurting sticky whiteness across our chests. 

He collapses down onto me and we both have to make our heavy breathing in sync. After a good ten minutes, Mikey manages to push himself up and whisper 'sorry' just before pulling out. I didn't understand why he was sorry until I felt the loss, then the pain. "Owie" I whimper.

"To be fair, you asked me to do it" Mikey smiles with a goofy, post-orgasm smile, whilst he cleans off our chests and throws the tissue in the waste basket. 

"Just like that one time you asked me to bite your neck and then you had to wear your collar up for days?" 

"Exactly like that" Mikey confirms, laying back down letting me pull him into a cuddle. I may be shorter than he is but I love him curled into me with his head on my chest, letting me stroke his hair until he falls asleep. He doesn't let anyone touch his hair, not even Gerard, so when I get to, I take full advantage. 

Mikey tightens his arms around me, like he's going to lose me if he doesn't hold on hard enough. "I promise, I won't leave." I whisper "I love you". I fall asleep wondering if that was the birth of something bigger than us, but also the death of us. Like, I finally gave everything to him, but maybe we're doomed to be star crossed lovers and I just started the death of our relationship. This time, it's me who holds onto Mikey tighter. Too much deep thinking for after sex.

The next morning, I kind of zone out, looking at the hotel room. There's just one hotel room in all of New York City now, that shares our fate. But thinking about it, it also deserves our pity. Because something died in here, something that will now being to cling on, even if it's withering away. 

We go on the My Chemical Romance bus for the first time in a while, and, for the first time, Gerard's glare doesn't scare me. But the fact that it didn't scare me, kinda scared me. Like right before someone dies, they claim they aren't afraid of anything, but then they end up dead so how great was fearlessness anyways?


	10. Just A Lot Of Sad Gayness. Idk

As time teeters on, my bandmates start being really careful. Everyone knows. Everyone knows about our love affair. Everyone knows it's going to end. Patrick, particularly, knows that I'm going to do everything and nothing to preserve the last day, though, he says nothing.

The late August air is already beginning to chill into September and we're surrounded by whilst we're sitting on the roof of the hotel. The last day, the last hotel, the last breath before we both hop on a plane going opposite directions. 

"I was born to be fucked up" I admit, "Like I was born under a bad sign or something" Mikey turns his eyes away from the stars to look at me through blurry eyes. We've both been drinking, a whole six pack and a half gone just to forget what today is. "But you saved my life, Mikeyway." I take his hand and tell him "I love you. I promise I'll always love you. Cross my heart and hope to die, splinter from the headboard in my eye"

Mikey looks back with sad eyes. "I love you too, Pete"

Right then, everything came together as he kissed Mikey. Everything that summer means is pulling into one little fold up container I can stick in my pocket. From when we were out on the bridge in New Mexico watching the sunset, to pulling the black curtain of my bunk down for privacy, to dunking him in the pool, to taking silly pictures (and pictures of us kissing for proof) on our sidekicks, to squirt gun fights, to right here and now. Everything is just coming together right to this moment.

We both roar with laughter when I sweep Mikey up into my arms and carry him all the way to the hotel room. We don't bother turning on the lights. I just push him against the wall ,like he was a picture frame so he can't cause me any trouble, and start making out with him roughly. "If anything can and will be held against you, you'd better say my name" I say between kisses on his neck. I thought it was clever, I might have even laughed, but Mikey moaned out my name and all I could do is turn predatory. I turned him and backed him further into the room, tongue never leaving his mouth, all the way until he was pressed against the window.

All of a sudden, anger rushed through me. _He's abandoning me_. I didn't come to fight, but I'm like a weapon, one he never concealed. This might turn out to be a battle, and certainly won't turn out okay. I was never good at words with Mikey, but sex came so easily with him, I won't fight with words, I'm putting all my passion into this night. I separate to breathe, looking at him up and down, staring into his New York eyes to see if he is thinking like me, if he's upset and torn apart like me. He puts up a good front, but even in the dark, I can see right through him. He's just as broken as I am, with his fingertips holding onto my Chicago thighs so tight it might leave bruises. I felt like a moth trapped in the light by fixation, just drawn to Mikey, but I shake out of it, and push my lips roughly against him. I take his hands and hold them down, above his head, tight enough that he's probably going to have bruises, but right now I don't care. I just want to get off by kissing him against the window. 

Another wave of anger comes and I put it all into pushing my hips against his, and trailing my nails down his back. "Clothes. Off. Now" I growl. I don't sound like myself, but Mikey's going along with it and we're stripped down and kissing each other again. He's giving me all his filth, I'm making it rough, just trashing his love. I'm running my nails down his back and he's moaning to my set rhythm. I drag my nails down his sides and hold onto his hips hard enough to leave nasty bruises, as I grind against him, skin against skin. I love everything about him, even though it hurts, I feel all my energy buzz into making him feel my pain. I take one hand and tangle it in his hair and pull, him letting out a cry at the bottom of his throat followed by a low moan. I'm holding on so tight, leaving bruises, clawing and tugging at him, grinding against him. I'm doing everything I can just to hold on. 

He bursts like a bubble, coming with a choked gasp when I push my hips against his again roughly. I push him down, making him get on his knees. Looking up at me, letting me see all his moves, he looks innocent like Seattle, but when his lips wrap around the head, he feels dirty like L.A.. I tangle my hair and hold on the best I can, pulling his head towards me and thrusting like my life depended on it. I can feel him gagging against my dick, but I don't care. I'm just so angry. Just so heartbroken. I come with a scream of mostly angst, truly free and loving it.

Then I pick Mikey up and bring him to the bed. I want to tell him I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a dick. For being so rough. For telling him I love him. For breaking his heart. For thinking this could last. For thinking I would be okay in the end. But I can't bring myself to say it, though, the way Mikey's looking at me, I think he knows. 

"Fight off the light" Mikey whispers, the sun will start to come up soon and we both know that. "Just stay with me, please, don't you leave me"

I snuggle against him and hold him tight. Right now, I feel like we are immortal. Like we can be immortals, just not for very long. I feel like he will live with me forever now. 

When I feel him tighten his arms around me, I know he's love sick, that he has it so bad, because I'm the best he'll never have again. So I sing to him, sing to him to take away the pain, and I would do that every day if I could. " _How cruel is the golden rule? When the lives we lived are only golden-plated And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me. Though I carried karats for everyone to see and I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies and all the lovers with no time for me and all of the mothers raise their babies to stay away from me_ " That's good. I might put it into a song if Patrick lets me. 

I can't sleep though. Mikey is pretty much passed out, breathing lightly against my chest. I keep trying to picture myself without Mikey but I simply cannot. I try to go positive. I try to think that something better will come along, but Mikey is the better thing. He's my little cherry blossom, he so pretty, but gone too soon. 

When the light cracks through the window, I don't bother waking him up. I just get dressed and grab my duffle. I can't help but look back at him. _I can't leave him like this_. Without anything. I dig through my duffle to find something to write with and all I come up with is a sharpie. Sometimes I wish I was a girl because lipstick would have been a lot easier, and then I wouldn't have these images of Mikey crying and scraping his skin raw. I proceed anyways, to write my little goodbye note on his arm. ' _I promised to love you forever xoxo peterpan_ '. I know I won't be able to bring myself to call him. So calling it quits is the closest I can get. "Goodbye Mikeyway" I whisper before leaving, careful not to wake him. 

The band is pissed when I show up late, but they all know, they all know it's over, and now they know the date. They don't push it, I'm the only one who's going to get away with making excuses today. 

On the plane, I can't listen to all the songs I used to, they just remind me of Mikey, the heavy metal breaks my heart even further. I miss him already, and we have only just taken off. It feels as if every time I come home I end up burning a bridge or two. I promised him, that night on the roof of the hotel, that I wouldn't miss him, that I'd be happy, but I guess he'll never know now. I should just be happy that Gerard didn't remove my balls with an ice pick or anything, though I wouldn't put it past him to come for me in L.A.

"Did you ever love him?" Patrick interrupts my line of thought. I wipe away tears I didn't know I was crying. I'm better than that, Mikey will never see the tears I cry. "Do you know? Or did you never want to be alone?" 

I take a deep breath. "Mikey and I were pity sex, nothing more and nothing less, just early morning company" As I'm saying that, I wonder if it's the truth. The truth that I didn't want to acknowledge because it hurts a whole lot worse than anything I could ever do to Mikey. After all of this, I hope that Mikey will remember me for centuries, that he won't forget what we had. I know that he'll try so hard to forget me, but he'll make a mistake, slip up and think about summertime. I can feel all the love leaving my heart, every last drop of life in me slipping away, but sorrow is all the rage these days. 

I try to close my eyes, let it all slip away, but I mummified those teenage dreams, they are never going away. I think of how his hot whiskey eyes looked,  how my hands felt on his skin, how we started singing too soon and we were just throwing stones at a glass moon, how we are the new face of failure, just prettier and younger but clearly not any better off. 

I can't take it anymore, the images hurt, and after awhile, I learnt to pity fools. That's probably why I can't stop feeling sorry for myself. Thirty thousand feet up in the air, I take a sleeping pill and lean against the window. I had hoped that I would be at peace for a little bit. But my dreams made me feel love sick and dizzy, and I wake up feeling even worse. I realise that I would've taken a bullet for him but his finger was on the trigger the entire time. I know I should've left our love in the gutter where we found it, but I couldn't help it, and now he's gone, but I'll just have to be okay.

Patrick glances sideways at me, I know he's worried. I know I fucked up. I know. _I know_. 

*****

Back home, alone in my apartment in Chicago, it's worse. I unpack, finding Mikey's old shirts. I keep checking my texts for Mikey, but in my sidekick, there are pictures of Mikey and I, becoming frozen proof behind a screen. I have to put it down because I realise all those people in those photographs are dead and that makes my head is twisting and my veins are in a rush. 

So I basically resort to moping around. Some nights, I wear his old shirts and just walk around my empty apartment, sometimes, if I take too much medication, I can trace Mikey's shadow on my wall. I know that I'm supposed to love him, I promised, so on days that I don't miss him, I begin to miss missing him. Like I _have_ to miss him. I _do_ miss him. Often more than not, I just sit around staring at my shoes, dirty sadness filling me up like a balloon. When I'm left alone with my thoughts I play the 'what if' game. _What if Mikey was the one? What if we could make it work? What if I called him?_ I suppose he's my favourite 'what if' topic. But all those questions, they are never answered, I will never know. Some nights, things get so bad I almost pick up the phone, tell Mikey to come back to me. To be mine forever. Sometimes, I get past hitting the 'call' button, but with my lousy arm, I can't throw caution to the wind, and hang up after the first few rings. 

Patrick finally made it over to the apartment, to make sure I'm not dead or anything. I'm crying on the couch when the singer kneels down next to me. "You've got me" Patrick says, stroking my hair flat. The thing is, I don't love Patrick the same way I love Mikey. I love Patrick because he's always here for me, I owe him my life. But Mikey, fuck, I really do love him. No matter how much I love Patrick, right now, I wish I could trade his baby blues just to see Mikey and his wide eye browns. Patrick wants to fix my car crash heart in forty five, he doesn't want to see me go down this road. Not again. Mikey is just another lover with no time for me, but it still hurts. 

******

I threw my heart into every song, every lyric. No one questioned me. Patrick had asked when I was going to stop writing songs about Mikey. I flipped over a music stand and yelled at him for ten minutes straight. He knew I wasn't mad at him though.

Infinity On High is released almost two years after. Every song is a love song in my own way, reminding me when I had a 'happily ever after' below my waistline. Infinity On High was like a spell, casting over to the west, to make Mikey think the same way of me as I think of him, in L.A. where Mikey had heard it for the first time.

On a miserable, rainy March day. I get a call from an unknown number. "Hello?"

"Hey" a voice cracks over the line. 

"Mikey? How have you been?" I feel like I'm saying that to a former self, myself, from a different timeline.

"Good. Yeah. How are you doing?" Mikey asks, as if he knows just how much better off I am without him.

"Good. Doing well with the new release." I look at the window, at the rain hitting the glass like knives. It's bad, but not the worst Chicago's ever seen.

"Yeah. I know, I heard it." I think of him listening to it, and I get flushed hot, then angry at myself that just a simple thought of Mikey can change a room. But when I thought of him crying, I turned cold and pale, refusing to believe that he cried, if he says he cried, he must be lying. I wanted to say something, say that I forgot about him, but he'd see right through me, I can't pretend to ever forget about him.

"Sorry that every song is about you" I mumble, wondering if he had actually heard.

There was a silence, just a buzzing on the other end, until Mikey speaks again. "So...uh.. I kind of fucked up. Did you hear?" 

I wish I could say yes, but Patrick had blocked any webpage that had 'My Chemical Romance' or 'Mikey Way' in it. "No, hear what?"

"I just..." Mikey takes a deep breath. "I went off the rails a little bit while I was recording Black Parade, thought there were ghosts and shit."

I don't know what to say, I may be the mayor of crazytown, but I have no clue as to what to actually say in these situations. "How are you doing now?"

I can hear Mikey shiver on the other end. "Well, I'm standing out in the pouring rain, wondering why the hell I came to Chicago" My heart jumps a little, I don't know why. Maybe because it's Mikey. Maybe because I have nothing but everything to say to him. But I really just want to hug him and slap him. I  need to tell him how much I love him, but fucking hate him for leaving. "So uh, if you'd like, either come open the door or tell me to fuck off, that'd be super great" Mikey's voice brings me back to reality. I run over to the window to see if I'm just hearing things. Mikey's standing at the base of my building, his long black coat drenched from the downpour. He's waiting for me to tell him to come home, the home in my arms, waiting in a hushed melody of tears.

"I...." I don't know. I don't know why I'm hesitating. I know I love Mikey and I want him here. But he's going to come, then leave. Leaving me broken yet again. "Fuck... yeah, fine. Just come up and get out of that weather" I hang up and click my buzzer to let him in. I open my apartment door and pace back and forth waiting for Mikey to pop up the stairs, lanky body and all. But what if I imagined it? What if I'm going crazy again? I didn't imagine it though, because Mikey was walking at the end of the hall, water-logged like a drowned rat. I couldn't help myself, I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him, not even caring that I'm going to be soaked now too. "What the hell Mikeyway?" I mutter into his shoulder. He just shivers in response. "Come on, let's get you some warm clothes" 

I drag him into my apartment and he stands in one spot, creating a puddle on the tiled floor, as I search for clothes to fit him. "Here" I hand him some sweatpants and a t-shirt. "Bathroom's around the corner"

"Thanks" Mikey says, his voice is deeper, more horse. 

When we're both dry, and our clothes are spinning in the dryer, we sit on the couch. There's too many inches between us, too many miles. I'm the first to speak. "Tell me, I forgot, just, what did summer ever mean to you?" It comes out bitchier than I wanted, but it's also how I feel on the inside, a bubbling mixture of rage and lust. Mostly rage right now. Mikey looks stunned, and I continue when he doesn't speak. "It's been two years Mikey!"

"The phone works both ways" He snaps back. Neither of us actually want to fight, but it's inevitable. "Besides. While you were writing love songs, the person in those love songs almost died."

"Mikey-"

"No." Mikey cuts me off. "When I was at my lowest point, I thought you'd come see me. You know what it's like. I was there for you and you couldn't be there for me" His words were venomous. Whipping me like each word could jump out of his mouth and beat me up. 

"I'm sorry Mikey... I... I didn't mean it... Patrick took away.."

"Stop blaming your problems on other people" Mikey is in tears by now. 

"I loved you Mikey! I got so lonely that I couldn't stand. We were young, and stupid to think it could last, but hell, we hoped! You were my Versailles every night. I never stopped thinking about you."

"I was ready to do anything for you. I was willing to make it work. But you left, before I could even say a word" Mikey's ferocity drained from him as he recalls the times when it was better.

"I wish...I just wish I knew how much you loved me. God I was so stupid! I just wish I cared enough to know, I wish I didn't think about only myself back then." I admit. It's a stupid thing to admit, we can't go back. We're far too broken and damaged to stitch us back together. Wishing, will do me nothing.

"We just said goodbye a little too soon" Mikey looks down so I don't see him cry, but his teardrops fall from his cheeks making wet patches on the couch below. 

"I would do it all again" I conclude. "trade every single tomorrow just to spend one more yesterday with you"

"Pete the poet"Mikey smiles. 

 


	11. Epilogue

Mikey left after that, after the rain died down. I couldn't stop him. 

' _Almost_ ' is the saddest word in English. I _almost_ had him. We _almost_ made it. We _almost_ had it all. I was almost happy. _Almost_ enough. _Almost_. 

No decorative end though. This love story wasn't meant to end happy, I told you that in the beginning. I'm still looking for the moral of this story I suppose. All I can think is how much I wish for a second chance at this life. A second chance to be better. 

Mikey and I still talk. But it's torture. Small talk with someone you used to love is worse than any torture the Devil could come up with. 

_xxoo peterpan_

ps- Sometimes I don't have the right words to say it, or enough of them, so I'll just say it bluntly- I miss you. I keep thinking back to me and you. Mostly you.

 


End file.
